Science Fiction Review #17 Interview

An Interview with Robert Anton Wilson

Conducted by Neal Wilgus

Science Fiction Review #17, May 1976
two short excerpts published in The Illuminati Papers

SFR: I know you’re co-author of Illumatus!, have written for GnosticaGreen Egg and others and were once assistant editor of Playboy – could you fill us in on the details of your life and present activities?

Wilson: Well, to begin with, I never balled Sophia Loren on a bearskin rug.  I think that’s what gives my writing its unforgettable poignance and haunting sense of cosmic search.  I’ve got about a thousand articles in print, in everything from scholarly journals to tabloids of the sleaziest nature, some poetry here and there, a few short stories.

My other books are Sex and Drugs: A Journey Beyond LimitsPlayboy’s Book of Forbidden Words and The Book of the Breast, all non-fiction, and The Sex Magicians, a rather funny porn novel featuring Markoff Chaney from Illuminatus!

I was busted for civil rights activities in ’62, walked a few yards behind Mailer in the Pentagon protest of ’67, got tear-gassed at the Democratic Convention of ’68.  I’ve worked as a longshoreman, astrology columnist, reporter, medical orderly, laboratory assistant, engineering aide, encyclopedia salesman and most of the things you find on writers’ resumes.  And I was an Associate Editor, not an assistant editor, at Playboy.  The difference is as important as that between a mere Congressman and an anointed Senator or between a zebra and a horse with striped pajamas on.

I have a beautiful red-headed wife, four kids, and a cat named Conan the Bavarian.

SFR:  Robert J. Shea is Senior Editor at Playboy and I understand Illuminatus! was written in 1970 while you were an editor.  Could you tell us something about Shea?

Wilson: Illuminatus! was written in 1969-1971, while we were both Associate Editors.  Shea had what it takes to stick it out at the Bunny Empire and is now Senior Editor.  I quit after five years because I got bored and wanted to do something more amusing.  Shea has a beautiful blond wife, a son, a home in a prosperous suburb and passes as a well-adjusted citizen.  I have long suspected that he is actually a time-traveling anthropologist fro the 23rd Century doing a report on primitive civilizations.  When I try to pump him about that, he becomes very evasive and looks nervous.  To the best of my knowledge, he has never balled Sophia Loren on a bearskin rug, either.

SFR: Could you give us some idea of how Illuminatus! was written? Who wrote which parts?

Wilson: Most of it was communicated to us telepathically by a canine Intelligence, vast, cool and unsympathetic, from Sirius, the Dog Star. I was aware of being a channel for interstellar sarcasm, but Shea thought he was inventing his part of the transmission. In general, the melodrama is Shea and the satire is me; but some of the satire is definitely him and some of the melodrama is certainly me. “When Atlantis Ruled the Earth” is 99% Shea. The sections about Simon Moon, Robert Putney Drake and Markoff Chaney are 99% me. Everything else is impossible to untangle. The celebrated Blow Job on the beach, for instance, is almost all Shea, but I think my lyrical additions to the text add to the esthetic beauty and philosophical richness of the symbology and give more existential meaning to Georges ultimate ejaculation into Mav’s warm, passionate mouth, in a Maileresque sense. Of course, this is only important if you agree with Vonnegut’s claim that the function of the modern novel is to describe Blow Jobs exquisitely.

SFR: Illuminatus! incorporates much of the Cthulhu Mythos, refers often to H. P. Lovecraft and even includes a short scene in which HPL appears.  Is it you or Shea that’s the HPL enthusiast?

Wilson: It’s me.  I went through a period in the early 1960s when I kept having the Lovecraft horrors every time I took peyote.  Cthulhu leering at the window.  Yog-Sothoth oozing down the chimney.  Azathoth invading my neurons with vampiric psychic-horror vibes.  It was like a non-stop Creature Weatures without commercials, every time I gobbled a cacti.  A lesser man would have changed his religion, I assure you, but I managed to recapture the Reality Studio and banish them all with violent Cabalistic imprecations.  They don’t dare show their faces, or lack of faces in any of my universes anymore.

SFR:  Will there be more collaborations with Shea?  A sequel to Illuminatus!?

Wilson:  That depends on our Contact, the Mad Dog fro Sirius.  Right now, we’re working on separate novels.  Mine has some of the characters from Illuminatus! and much of the same psychedelic style.   It concerns the aftermath of a sex-change operation and what happens to the amputated penis.  To the best of my knowledge, it’s the first novel ever written with a penis as the protagonist and I’m hoping for a huge sale, especially in San Francisco.

SFR:  The theme of “immanentizing the Eschaton” runs throughout Illuminatus! but the phrase is never defined or explained.  In the framework of the book this seems to imply that various secret societies are working to bring about the end of the worked – is that a valid interpretation?

Wilson:  The phrase was coined by a Christian historian, Eric Bogelin, and refers to the Gnostic doctrine that people aren’t really as hopeless as Christians think.  Eschaton, form the Greek, means the last things, and, in Christian theology, these are Heaven and Hell.  Immanentizing the Escaton means seeking heaven within the “immanent” universe, i.e. the only universe we know.

To a thorough going Christian pessimist like Vogelin anybody who tries to be happy or make others happy is dangerously close to Gnostic heresy.  I am all for immanentizing the Escaton in this sense, next Tuesday if possible.  Vogelin detects immanentizing tendencies in humanists, liberals, technologists, optimistic philosophies of evolution like Nietzsche’s communists, anarchists and most of the post-medieval thought of the Western World, all of which are overtly or covertly aiming at the verboten “heaven on the material plane.”

In the novel, we make the point that conservatives are also in danger of immanentizing the Eschaton by continuing a Cold War that can only result in Hell on the material plane – nuclear incineration.

In one sense, Illuminatus! is a reduction to ad absurdum of all mammalian politics, Right or Left, by carrying each ideology on logical step further than its exponents care to go.  Voltaire used that satirical judo against the Churchman and I decided it’s time to turn it on the Statesman.  The only intelligent way to discuss politics, as Tim Leary says, is on all fours.  It all comes down to territorial brawling.

SFR:  I understand the Eschaton them stems from an anti-Gnostic campaign in the National Review some time ago.  Could you fill us in on the origins of the term?

Wilson:  As I say, it was coined by Vogelin.  The anti-Gnostic them was chronic in conservative circles during the early 60’s and even got into a Time editorial once.  As an ordained priest of the Gnostic Catholic Church, I find this amusing, since it makes most of the educated classes into unknowing disciples of us Gnostics.  As Marx said under similar circumstances, “I once shot an elephant in my pajamas.  How he got into my pajamas I’ll never know.”

SFR:  What is your relationship with Timothy Leary?

Wilson:  Are you sure you’re not from Gay Times?  Dr. Leary and I are just good friends.  I mean, really, do you mind, Bess?  Honestly!  Well if you must have the truth, I’m playing Zola and Tim is Dreyfuss – or, at least, that’s one of my old scripts.  I suppose Tim might think he’s Johnson and I’m Boswell.  Then there’s the theory that I’m his C.I.A. “babysitter” and supervised his whole campaign of mind-rot and betrayal of the New Left.  Actually, if you want the facts, which are always funnier and more interesting than myths, Dr. Leary is the ring-leader and I’m an unindicted co-conspirator in a plot to immanentize the Eschaton by achieving higher intelligence, longevity and extra-terrestrial migration in this generation.  In the next generation (for which, due to longevity we’ll both still be active) the hope is to achieve immortality and starflight.  I told you the truth was more interesting than the myths.

SFR:  Why are you suing the Neo-American Church for $1,000,000?  Isn’t that just a promotion device to publicize Illuminatus! and the new book you’re writing with Leary?

Wilson:  The Neo-American Church, who most certainly did not ball Sophia Loren on or off a bearskin rug, have claimed that Illuminatus! is actually written by Dr. Leary and that Shea and I are co-conspirators in a legal fraud committed by Tim to evade contractual obligations, whatever that means.  (Neither Dr. Leary nor his lawyers nor the Justice Department are aware of any contracts that would prevent Tim from publishing Illuminatus! as his own book, if he had indeed written it.)  The Neo-Americans have accused Shea, Dr. Leary and myself of a felony, and they have done so maliciously and untruthfully.  In the American legal game, maliciously and untruthfully accusing somebody of a felony is a libel.  The persons so damaged in reputation may collect pieces of green paper, blessed by the Federal Reserve and called “money,” in proportion to the damage, as estimated by 12 jurors who are hopefully sober at the time.  Happily, the two typists who typed the originally ms. of Illuminatus! are still at Playboy, many of the editors heard Shea or me read parts of it when it was coming out of our typewriters (after business hours, Hef!) and there are dozens of accessory witnesses. The Neo-Americans have fouled and will have to pay the penalty.  It does me no good in publishing circles to have my funnies book attributed to somebody else, or to be accused of a Clifford Irving fraud.

SFR:  How serious are you about the rule of fives and the Importance of 23?

Wilson:  Being serious is not one of my vices.  I will venture, however, that the idea that there are no conspiracies has been popularized by historians working for universities and institutes funded by the principle conspirators of our time – the Rockefeller-Morgan banking interests, the Council on Foreign Relations Crowd.  This is not astonishing or depressing.  Conspiracy is the standard mammalian politics for reasons to be found in ethology and Von Neumann’s and Morgenstern’s Theory of Games and Economic Behavior.  Vertebrate competition depends on knowing more than the opposition, monopolizing information along with territory, hoarding signals.  Entropy, in a word.  Science is based on transmitting the signal accurately, accelerating the process of information transfer.  Negative entropy.  The final war may be between Pavlov’s Dog and Schroedinger’s Cat.

However, I am profoundly suspicious about all conspiracy theories, including my own, because conspiracy buss tend to forget the difference between a plausible argument and a real proof.  Or between a legal proof, a proof in the behavioral sciences, a proof in physics, a mathematical or logical proof, or a parody of any of the above.  My advice to all is Buddha’s last words, “Doubt, and find your own light.”  Or, as Crowley wrote, “I slept with Faith and found her a corpse in the morning.  I drank and danced all night with Doubt and found her a virgin in the morning.”  Doubt suffereth long, but is kind; doubt covereth a multitude of sins’ doubt puffeth not itself up into dogma.  For now abideth doubt, hope, and charity, these three and the greatest of these is doubt.  With doubt all tings are possible.  Every other entity in the universe, including Goddess Herself, may be trying to con you.  It’s all Show Biz.  Did you know that Billy Graham is a Bull Dyke in drag?

SFR: Could you tell us something about the authors and ideas that have influenced you?  Are you a long-time science-fiction/fantasy fan?  A neo-Pagan or occultist?

Wilson:  My style derives directly from Ezra Pound, James Joyce, Raymond Chandler, H.L. Menken, William S. Burroughs, Benjamin Tucker and Elephant Doody Comix, in approximately that order of importance.  Chandler has also influenced my way of telling stories; all my fiction tends to follow the Chandler mythos of the skeptical Knight seeking Truth in a world of false-fronts and manipulated deceptions.  (Of course, this is also my biography, or that of any shaman.)  The writers who have most influence my philosophy are Aleister Crowley, Timothy Leary, Alfred Korzybski and Karl Popper (and a few Logical Positivists) are absolutely necessary for epistemological clarity, especially when you get to the growing edge of science, where the hot debates are going on, and even more if you wander into the occult.  Sci-fi and fantasy are my favorite forms of fiction; I think the so-called “naturalists” and “social realists” have committed high treason against humanity by selling their gloomy perspective as the “real” reality.  A book that lacks the element of heroism is a crime against the young and impressionable, in my opinion.  A book full of anger and self-pity is another crime. Needless to day, as a libertarian I don’t mean literally that these are crimes to be punished in court.  The only final answer to a bad, sad book is to write a good, funny book.  (I love debate and hate censorship.  Accuracy-of-signal and free flow of information define sanity in my epistemology.  I should have included Norbert Weiner among the primary influences on my thinking.)

As for neo-Paganism and the occult: I’m an initiated witch, an ordained minister in four churches (or cults) and have various other “credentials” to impress the gullible.  My philosophy remains Transcendental Agnosticism.  There are realities and intelligences greater than conditioned normal conscious recognizes, but it is premature to dogmatize about them at this primitive stage of our evolution.  We’ve hardly begun to crawl off the surface of the cradle-planet.

The most advanced shamanic techniques – such as Tibetan Tantra or Crowley’s system in the West – work by alternating faith and skepticisim until you get beyond the ordinary limits of both.  With such systems, one learns how arbitrary are the reality-maps that can be coded into laryngeal grunts by hominids or visualized by a mammalian nervous system.  We can’t even visualize the size of the local galaxy except in special High states.  Most people are trapped in one static reality-map imprinted on their neurons when they were naïve children, as Dr. Leary keeps reminding us.  Alas, most so-called “Adepts” or “Gurus” are similarly trapped in the first post-rapture reality-map imprinted after their initial Illumination, as Leary also realizes.  The point of systems like Tantra, Crowleyanity and Leary’s Neurologic is to detach from all maps – which gives you he freedom to use any map where it works and drop it where it doesn’t work.  As Dogen Zenji said, “Time is three eyes and eight elbos.”

SFR: Would I be right in saying you probably lean more toward the libertarian from of anarchism than the classic leftist variety?

Wilson:  My trajectory is perpendicular to the left-right axis of terrestrial politics.  I put some of my deepest idealism into both the Left anarchism of Simon Moon and the Right anarchism of Hagbard Celine in Illuminatus!, but I am detached from both on another level.

Politics consists of demands, disguised or rationalized by dubious philosophy (ideologies).  The disguise is an absurdity and should be removed.  Make your demands explicit.  My emphasis is on whatever will make extra-terrestrial migration possible in this generation.  The bureaucratic State, whether American, Russian or Chinese has all the clout on this planet for the foreseeable future. The individualist must fulfill hir genetic predisposition to be a pioneer, and the only way SHe can do that today is by moving into space faster than anyone else.  I think the maverick Seed is included in the DNA scenario to serve that function in each epoch.  I’m leaving Earth for the same reason my ancestors left Europe; freedom is found on the expanding, pioneering perimeter, never inside the centralized State.  To quote another Zen koan, “Where is the Tao?”  “Move on!”

SFR: You’re involved in an organization called the DNA Society which is interested in biological engineering and immortality, the creation and exploitation of higher forms of consciousness.  How serious are you about this?”  How close are we to achieving this on a broad scale?

Wilson:  Let me refer the reader to the The Prospect of Immortality and Man Into Superman by Ettinger, The Biological Time Bomb by Taylor, Te Immortality Factor by Segerberg, Terra II by Dr. Leary and Wayne Benner, the writings of John Lilly and Buckminster Fuller, and my article “The Future of Sex” in Oui for November 1975.

With that documentation, I assert that the basic longevity breakthrough will occur before 1980.  Segal, Bjorstein or Froimovich, among others, may be very close to it already.  The basic principles of reimprinting or meta-programming the nervous system, as discovered by Leary and Lilly, will be accepted and used in daily practice by around 1985.  A neurogentic quantum jump in life-expectancy, intellectual efficiency and emotional equilibrium (or, as Leary calls it, Hedonic Engineering) will be revolutionizing human life before the 21st Century.  Some of us will be alive when the Immortality Pill is found between 2050 and 2100.

SFR:  Dell’s marketing of Illuminatus! As a trilogy rather than a long novel and its hardsell advertising of the books seem designed to make it a “cult” novel like Stranger in a Strange Land and Dune.  Do you think it will succeed?

Wilson:  The senior execs at Dell had very little faith in such a madcap prank as Illuminatus! for a long time; it took the enthusiasm of five junior editors in succession, each of whom fought for publication, before the Alphas at the top of the herd were persuaded.  Then they split it up into 3 volumes (and cut 5—page of the more spaced-out stuff) because he investment in paper to print it as one volume seemed too great a business risk to them.  They only gave it an advertising budget, finally, after it became a success without advertising.  As for my private opinion as one of the co-authors of this accursed neo-Necronomicon, why, I think it should be promoted as a major historical event, similar to the publication of Ulysses or the bombing of Hiroshima, and not as a “cult” novel at all.  Did you know that Disney was a secret peyote and jimson weed cultist and his last words were “Red, white and blue cockroaches dancing in harmony.”?

SFR:  Illuminatus! has heavy doses of obscenity and sex, requires  pretty broad background knowledge and uses unconventional stream-of-consciousness techniques – do you think thee things will be an obstacle for large numbers of readers?

Wilson:  There is no such animal as “obscenity,” scientifically speaking, until and unless somebody invents an obscenometer which can be pointed at a book and will give you an objective reading of how many smuts or microsmuts of “obscenity” are in it.  Meanwhile, “obscenity” is just a word used by people with sex-negative imprints and confuses their private map with the objective territory.  Sex seems to be the most festive aspect of mammalian life and should be enjoyed and celebrated to the full.

I started the “Linda Lovelace for President” campaign two years ago, by having a rubber stamp made with that slogan and using it on my envelopes.  (I correspond extensively with editors, writers, witches, scientists and other culture-makers.)  To my delight, the campaign has already resulted in a move with that title, Linda Lovelace for President, and I hope the idea will continue to snowball and become a mammoth write-in vote next November, which would be a perfect Discordian action to commemorate the first anniversary of Illuminatus!  In a sane society, cock-sucking would be esthetically judged in terms similar to novel-writing, grand opera, swordsmanship, etc. and Linda would be an honored artist.  I mean that gal can really swallow Peter.  But I digress.

I don’t think the reader needs to be particularly erudite to appreciate most of the humor in Illuminatus!  I’ve received lots of fan letters from teen-agers, and nobody is particularly erudite at that age (although I thought I was).  There are lots of “in” jokes that will only be appreciated by mathematicians, or physicists, or Joyce scholars, or acid-heads, or Cabalists or other special interest groups, but that’s just the icing on the cake.  Some traps are deliberate, of course; as Josiah Warren said, “It is dangerous to understand new things too quickly.”  I have tried to shield my readers from that danger.  Besides, a book should last and not get worn-out.  I’ve been reading Finnegans Wake for 27 years now and I still find loads of new jokes and subtleties every time I get into it.  I hope Illuminatus! might last that way for its real aficionados.  There’s lots of fun, for instance, in store for anybody who starts relating the contents of the ten chapters to the Sephiroth on the Cabalistic Tree of life after which the chapters are named.

Finally, there is virtually no stream-of-consciousness in Illuminatus!   The narrative technique is based on D.W. Griffith’s Intolerance, which I think is the greatest movie ever made.  Of course, to get Schroedinger’s Cat and the new physics in, I had to introduce parallel universes alongside of or on top of the Griffith time-montage.  But, as McLuhan pointed out, the newspaper uses similar collage or mosaic effect every day.  Only static, archaic notions about what a book “should be” prevent people from just going along with the ride when similar cinematic-journalistic matricies are applied to the novel.  Hitchcock uses the Griffith cross-cut continually, for tease-effect and suspense.  People only object when the tens reaches the intensity of a Zen riddle and makes them genuinely uncomfortable about their current reality-map.  Well, Illuminatus!  reflects post-LSD consciousness, the new (post-

Bell’s Theorem) physics, the occult revival, etc. and therefore is an utter failure, In its ambitions, if it doesn’t make people uncomfortable with static reality-maps.  There may be red, white and blue cockroaches in the universe next door.

SFR:  Who really did kill JFK?

Wilson:  In the universe created by Earl Warren, Lee Harvey Oswald did it, acting alone.  In the universe created by Mark Lane, it was done by a cabal of right-wing millionaires and former CIA agents.  In my current universe, that’s just one of the many mysteries remaining to be solved.  I might add – “without fear of contradiction,” as Hitler used to say – that, whereas current IQ tests only measure one dimension of intelligence, future psychology will measure n-dimensional intelligence, according to how many universes a person can occupy simultaneously.

SFR:  Is it true that your initials, RAW, are an Illuminati joke revealing you are really Ra, the Egyptian Sun God?

Wilson:  No. Actually, I’m Kharis the Mummy, and who took my tanka leaves?”

SFR:  What did happen to Joe Malik’s dogs in Illuminatus!?

Wilson:  I’m surprised that a person of your intelligence hasn’t seen through that little koan.  Anybody trained in classic detective-story thinking can solve that mystery quite quickly, by simply reviewing the evidence in an orderly fashion and then making the logical deductions.  Actually, the first step is to ask, did anybody ever see the dogs, or were they only inferred?  If the answer doesn’t appear from sifting the data through that question, re-read page 33 of Volume II very slowly.  I might add that other “loose ends” complained of by certain distinguished critics (nameless assholes, actually) are, like the disappearing dogs, easily penetrated by a reader of lively and skeptical intelligence.  But where are my tanka leaves?

SFR:  Here’s a hard one.  If George Dorn was a student at Columbia at the time of the 1968 student strike, how could he possible be as young as 23 in the novel, which is obviously set in the late1970s?

Wilson:  The novel is set in a very specific year of the 1970s, which can also be deduced from the dialog on pages 118 of Volume II.  If you don’t have any tanka leaves do you have some Columbian Gold?

SFR: I realize the Squirrel is not inferior to most of the characters in Illuminatus!, but I’m still wondering what purpose he served. Did he serve any?

WILSON:  One of the first things you learn in this business is that you just follow orders and you don’t ask questions.  They told me we needed a squirrel, and I put the squirrel in.  Once you start asking why, you lose your effectiveness immediately and then you’re no good to anybody, not even yourself.  It’s your balls in a sling then, friend.  I shit you not.  “Termination with maximum prejudice” – as the boys around Alexandria and at CFR headquarters in New York.  The overlords, on Sirius, don’t like it when any of us in Earth Control get out of line, believe me.

Actually, I think it has something to do with giving a DNA-eye view of history. It makes more sense in the original, before 500 pages were sent down the Memory Hole by the Reality Monitors at Dell, but even in the truncated published version, we have representatives of all the major races; nations and tribes if WoMankind; the gorillas and dolphins, representing Higher Intelligence; the squirrel, representing mammal-kind and at an even more primitive level than the human characters; FUCKUP representing non-biological intelligence; Leviathan, standing in for unicellular life Writ large, as it were; the American Eagle, for the domination of the air; the squinks (Swift-Kick Inc.), as designers of the local galaxy; etc. Together with the linear jump across time-zones and the non-linear warps of space-time itself, this should create a perspective transcending normal human chauvinism, oxygen chauvinism, Type G star chauvinism, and other parochialites imposed on “realistic” novels by the taboo against asking serious philosophical questions in so-called serious fiction. In other words, the squirrel and the other infra- and sub- and supra- and trans- human characters are there to dramatize Ouspensky’s injunction “Think in other categories.”

SFR:  Thinkers of the John Birch persuasion have linked the “Illuminati to the modern super-rich so-called Bilderbergers, but there was no mention of this idea in Illuminatus!  How come?

Wilson:  That idea is in Illuminatus! several times, but the word “Bilderbergers” somehow didn’t get included.  Probably a thought-ray from Bilderberger Hq. managed to knock out that particular synaptic connection in our brains.  The Sphere of Chaos which controls the Elders of Zion, the Rothschild banks, the Federal Reserve, etc., in the diagram on p. 97 of Vol. I, is a portrait of the “Bilderberger” wing of the Conspiracy without the “Bilderberger” label.  Curiously, the single most intelligent and least nutty of all the conspiracy books I’ve read (and I’ve literally read thousands by now) is The Naked Capitalist by W. C. Skousen.  Skousen describes the Rothschild-Rockefeller-CFR network in brilliant detail, but he doesn’t use the word “Illuminati” and only mentions “Bilderberger” conferences in passing.  I presume that these omissions must have some sinister meaning.  Quite possibly, Skousen, along with Shea and me, is influenced by psionic Ascended Masters who prevent us from seeing, or revealing, too much.

SFR:  What is your reaction to the reviews of Illuminatus!?

Wilson:  They’ve all been most kind and gratifying, but I get the distinct feeling that none of them have really understood the book.  Of course, I enjoy being told how witty and imaginative we were, but thus far only Dr. Leary and an occult journal called Green Egg have noticed that the satire is only the surface.  Something else is going on under and above and alongside of the joking.  Like Bernard Shaw, I have to look askance at my own skill in disarming my audience by making them laugh, and I almost wish I had provided a Shavian preface warning everybody that the final joke only becomes obvious to those who decipher the appendices called “The Tactics of Magick” and “Operation Mindfuck.”  Or, as Shaw said, the funnies part of this comedy is that I really am a menace. Heh-heh-heh.  (Murkey laugh.)

SFR:  Thank you, Mr. Wilson.

(submitted to rawilsonfans by RMJon23)

A MELANGE-A-TROIS OR MORE

Science Fiction Review #19“A Melange-a-Trois or More”

What Does Woman Want?
By Timothy Leri

Reviewed By Robert Anton Wilson

from Science Fiction Review, No. 19, 1976

This book is presented as a manuscript which fell through a space-time warp from the Vidalian solar system in 2575. Timothy Leri, the author, is, in some sense, Timothy Leary, the Harvard psychologist, LSD researcher, counter-culture guru, international fugitive, etc. Timothy Leri is also a galactic agent assigned to a primitive and barbaric planet, Sol-3, with the assignment of mutating it from mammalian (emotional) consciousness to objective intelligence.

The work itself seems to be composed by Leri, not Leary, but has been edited and commented upon by various interstellar critics and scholars. Some passages are obviously incorporated by mistake (or by the conscious fraud and counterfeiting of texts that bedevils all scholarly attempts to reconstruct events in barbaric periods.

Timofiev, the “acid assassin” hunted by the Soviet secret police, is probably such a forgery. — unless Leri is the forgery and Timofiev is the real origin of this myth cycle. Then, again, according to other chapters, the real man behind the mythology may have been a baseball player having a bad ses­sion and being booed by the fans who once cheered him on…

Erudite readers will soon notice another set of problems beyond these obvious historical confusions. Leri, whoever he is, has become blended over the centuries with Dante, James Joyce and Julian the Apostate. (One of the most ‘dramatic verses attributed to him, “Midway through our Life’s life, I awoke on a dark planet,” is palpably a distortion of Dante…) It is even possible that the conspiracy which attempts to destroy him (i.e. either the MW or the infamous Nixon-Liddy Gang) is itself a fiction, modeled on Egyptian demonology or William S. Burroughs’ Nova Mob.

Behind this web of surface ambiguity (a deadly parody of academic scholarship), Leri’s story is, mercifully, straightforward, comic, and highly erotic. Commodore Leri, who may be an alias for Captain James Kirk of the S.S. ENTERPRISE, arrives in Switzerland pursued by more conspiracies than the bedeviled heroes of ILLUMINATUS!

An ambiguous anti-semitic millionaire offers to help him, a professional “information broker” (who sells state secrets of all sorts to the highest bidder) also appears as an ally, and a mysterious and bewitching creature, Joanna (raised by her step-father to be the most intelligent woman on Terra), is also helping him — or perhaps spying on him for the Vatican. It is also possible that all these allies are actually planning to betray him. In short, the context is, as Leri himself observes, “normal mammalian politics.”

In this melodramatic Spy Thriller ambience (which may be an actual description of the actual adventures of a real scientific dissident in our own time), Leri, like Captain Kirk, attempts to be courteous, kindly, and helpful in his dealings with the primitives. Nonetheless, the primate taboo-system is everywhere, and be finds him-self imprisoned in 29 separate jails and exploited by scores of lawyers who strip him of the local sacrament (“money”).

“The reason Kirk always gets out of jail in 58 minutes,” he reflects, “is that he’s always a million lightyears from the nearest lawyer.”

Then another interstellar voyager appears, an enigmatic UFO perhaps modeled on Celtic mythology or the Book of Job, maybe staffed by extra-terrestrial Lesbians (or, at least, that’s what the Male Supremicist underground claims.) The UFO announces that all Terran life will be exterminated unless humanity can demonstrate objective intelligence by answering a simple “neurogenetic” test-question which measures evolutionary sophistica­tion. Alas, it is the very ques­tion which Freud himself admitted psychology alone can’t answer, the title question of the book, WHAT DOES WOMAN WANT?

It would be unfair to reveal any more of the suspenseful and surrealistic plot. It is enough to say that, mingled with the major theme of humanity’s search for an answer to the UFO riddle, we are also given (a) a coolly scientific analysis of the real “Timothy Leary’s” erotic history from adolescense through LSD and Tantra to the “alchemical mating” with the bewitching and mysterious Joanna, (b) bland instructions on how to brainwash a whole country with LSD, (c) a decoding of the evolutionary allegory hidden in the Tarot cards, (d) a series of shocking revelations about political and psychedelic conspiracies of the past two decades, (e) a whole new philosophy of sex, more radical than anything in Brown, Marcuse, Reich or Masters-Johnson, (f) the most brilliant satire on human chauvinism since Swift, (g) the answer to the title question, and (h) more— much more…

The last time I visited the imprisoned felon who created (or, as he says, “transcieved” this galactic allegory, I told him, “In this day of Women’s Liberation, no other male psychologist would dare to claim he knew the answer to WHAT DOES WOMAN WANT?” He flashed that world-famous Grin, which shows Cosmic Humor according to his admirers and Permanent Brain Damage . according to his critics. “Well,” he said gently, “other psychologists haven’t had as much experience with women as I have.”

There you have him in a nut-shell. Everything he does is hilarious, provocative, infuriating, dazzling original and sure to keep his fellow scientists arguing for a decade at least. WHAT DOES WOMAN WANT? is all of that, to the nth power.

Oh, yes, it also begins his outline of how humanity can double its IQ, triple its life-span and achieve space migration in this generation in this generation. That is to be continued in his next book, EXO-PSYCHOLOGY.

Letter to Green Egg, March 1976

letter to the Forum of Green Egg
from Vol. IX, No. 77, Ostara, March 1976

Dear Green Eggers:

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.

Comments on the Oimelc issue:

1. Thanks for the kind words about ILLUMINATUS.

2. If Phoenix and Theos are weeping in their pillows about being excommunicated by Lady Ariane, let them take heart from my own career.  I’ve been excommunicated from the Discordian Society over 50 times now.  Every now and then, I still experience buzzing and tingling sensations, shooting bolts of blue energy in the frontal lobes and weird neo-Bartok melodies; then I realize it’s just another Discordian cabal excommunicating me again.

3. Jana Hollingsworth made an excellent point in noting that a male can be a radical feminist, by Webster’s definition of “radical” and “feminist.”  Yea, verily, and indeed.  Intelligence is a process of detecting, and detaching oneself from, all local parochialities and chauvinisms, including racism, sexism, nationalism and the recently noted “type G star chauvinism” (Sagan) and “electro-magnetic chauvinism (Sarfatti.)

Alas, Hollingsworth, who made her point in rebuttal to Herman Slater’s broadside blast against radical feminists, immediately repeats Slater’s error by issuing a broadside blast against “libertarianism,” without definitions or qualifications.  Libertarianism includes, along with Smith and Locke, Spooner and Tucker and Spencer and Kroputkin and Baez and Heinlein and Goodman and Stirner (to name a few.)  It is to be hoped that next time around Hollingsworth will define what kind of libertarianism she dislikes.  That might even inspire Slater to define what type of radical feminism he dislikes.

Although the general exchange of semantically-meaningless insult is fun (for some readers), intelligent and meaningful debate is also fun (for other readers.)

4. R. Myron deserves great credit for his (or her) honesty in admitting the inability to understand Crowley’s books.  Indeed, Myron deserves sympathy and encouragement, and maybe even a fund to provide a few courses in semantics and remedial reading.  Alas, Myron deserves a horse laugh also, for the vulgar error of assuming that “what R. Myron can’t understand is not understandable.”  There are quite a few around who have been able to understand (and apply) Crowley’s system, with much fun and profit.

5.  I am totally unequipped to evaluate Daniel Blair’s revelations about the lost continent of Atlantis, but I will venture that I hope he knows more about that than he knows about science in general.  His argument (“My criticism of science is that its premises, that experimentation and logic can lead to truth, is neither locally nor experimentally proven.”) is a semantic blob, a verbal knot without content.  Of course, one cannot (should not) use logic to prove logic, which is as absurd as trying to use one’s teeth to bite one’s teeth.  But this is a seeming problem, not a real one.  One uses logic everyday (e.g. in crossing the street, or in looking for a lost fountain pen, etc.) not because it has been proven logically, which would be circular reasoning, but because it is that which seems to work.  That is, the mental processes which seem to give predictability over the hundred thousand years are those which have been codified verbally by Aristotle and mathematically by Boole, Russell et al and called logic.

The same applies, of course, to experiment.  Those procedures which, over the long evolutionary haul, seem to work, are those which are regularly employed by experimenters in strict fashion (and by you and me and probably Blair, when looking for that lost fountain pen, in a less strict fashion.)  We then call them ”experimental method.”  Again, the fact that experiment can’t prove experiment is as irrelevant as the fact that my teeth can’t bite my teeth.

The same circularity infests any human system developed by experience over the aeons.  E.g., “pleasing sounds,” on the ground that musicians have never “proven” that their sounds are more pleasing than, say, a garbage can thrown down the stairs.  Again, this reverses the cart and the horse.  Music is defined as those sounds which human experience has found more pleasing than others.

S.M.I.2L.E.,

Robert Anton Wilson
2510 College
Berkeley, Cal 94704

The Future of Sex

The Future of Sex

Cybernetics, Bio-Feedback, Neurology and Plenty of Old Fashioned Dickie Dunkin’
by Robert Anton Wilson

 from Oui, November 1975

The patriarchal age is over. The monogamous age is over.  Everything is over. Buck Rogers is the name of the game from here on out.  As Alvin Toffler noted in Future Shock there are more scientists alive and engaged in research right now than there were in all previous human history.  This means that along with everything else, human sexuality will be transformed in the next 30 years than it has been in the previous 30,000.

Scan the acceleration of contemporary events: Only ten years after Lenny Bruce was busted and hauled off to jail for saying the word cocksucker in public, Linda Lovelace, Georgiana Spelvin and 99 44/100 percent pure Marilyn Chambers are having their cocksucking styles shown in public and soberly evaluated by erotocritics, who sometimes score the ladies’ talents on Peter-Meters.

The speed of travel has increased a hundredfold; know energy resources have increased a thousandfold; weaponry, a millionfold; data processing, a millionfold; and the speed of communication has increased ten millionfold in this century and is still increasing.  J. R. Plat of the University of Michigan, the man who made these calculations, has this comment on their import: “None of our social organizations is prepared to deal with change on such a scale. . . . We may oscillate, or we may destroy ourselves, or we may reach a high-level steady state.” In other words, 2001 and Flash Gordon are more attuned to emerging fact than the most soberly intelligent social scientist in the college of your choice.

“We are living in science fiction,” as poet Allen Ginsberg said years ago.

Run this through your computer: “Our future will be one wherein sex is linked to procreation even less than it is now. . . . And procreation itself will be virtually emancipated from sexual intercourse in a world of sperm banks, surrogate mothers, test-tube babies and the utter asexuality of cloning. . . . Homosexual acts, for instance, will be seen as merely one sexual possibility among several open to every person, so long as he or – she is not inhibited by contrary programming.”

Now anyone who thinks that’s Dr. Tim Leary, Norman O. Brown, Charles A. Reich or some other prophet of futurism is missing the beat of the mutation. The speaker is a Roman Catholic theologian – Professor Michael Valente of the department of religious studies at Seton Hall University.

Some people, of course, insist that the pendulum must swing back to the uptight ethic of yesteryear. Arnold Gingrich, editor in chief of Esquire, for instance, has prophesied such a retreat since the mid-Fifties. Even today, “Esquire is eager to publish any neophobic Nostradamus who predicts a swing back to Gingrich’s mother’s notions of decorum, while in the real world, society has advanced rapidly from the nude breasts of the Fifties to the dawning of a muff-buff’s paradise, as the sacred snatch itself came out from behind the staples in the late Sixties; from a hullabaloo over use of the word virgin in a Fifties film (The Moon Is Blue) to ho-hum on camera fucking in the Seventies; from the time that mere mention of the abortion issue was political suicide to the day when legislators legalized abortion; from the acknowledgment that homosexuality really exists to gay pride and bisexual chic; from parental agony that their kids might engage in heavy petting (1955) to worry that they might actually have intercourse (1965) to nervous curiosity over whether they’re swinging both ways (1975).

“CITY HOSPITAL REPORTS RARE CASE OF HUMAN PREGNANCY”

-Newspaper headline of the 1980s

One reason the pendulum will not reverse is that it is extremely unlikely that any American woman will get pregnant accidentally in the 1980s. The contraceptive devices known to grandma and grandpa – mostly douches and condoms-averaged about 70 to 80 percent effectiveness; the I.U.D.s and coils of mom and pop raised the protection effectiveness to 95 to 98 percent; the pill is at least 99 percent effective. Today we have voluntary sterilization-which, though 100 percent effective, is presently irreversible-as well as a morning-after pill that is totally effective, although its side effects are questionable.

Foolproof contraception and, more socially important, the eradication of the fear of accidental pregnancy are just the overtures to the oncoming biological revolution-an upheaval that Dr. W. H. Thorpe of Cambridge University has predicted will create social consequences “at least as great as those arising from atomic energy and the H-bomb. . . . They rank in importance as high as, if not higher than, the discovery of fire, of agriculture, the development of print­ing and the discovery of the wheel.”

“I’m taking a half hour off this afternoon,” says the president of Chase Manhattan Bank, Ms. Linda Gotrocks. “Going down to the lab to pick up my new baby.”

“A he or a she?” asks her secretary.

“Oh, a he this time.”

                        -Office conversation, 1985

Fertilization of human eggs in the laboratory has already been accom­plished by three separate scientific groups; Cambridge University physiolo­gist Robert G. Edwards and gynecologist Patrick C. Steptoe are currently research­ing the implantation of artificially grown embryos in the wombs of women unable to conceive normally; embryo transplants have been accomplished at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center.

If some women can have sex without pregnancy and other women can have pregnancy without sex–or if the same women can have either choice at different times-then the moral codes based on the axiom of sex equals preg­nancy are as obsolete as witchcraft laws.

The transfer of human pregnancy to artificial wombs (which Aldous Huxley, in Brave New World, placed 500 years in the future) can’t be more than ten or fifteen years away. General applica­tions will inevitably follow, first for wom­en who can’t bear children and then for women who want children but don’t want nine months of discomfort and time lost from careers. The Hallmark card people will probably encourage the next generation to send Mother’s Day cards to Johns Hopkins or Walter Reed with verses such as: “Put them all to­gether, they spell OBSTETRICS / The ward that means the world to me.”

When pregnancy is entirely separated from the human body, all that will re­main of the purpose of sexual inter­course is fun; the old insistence that sex shouldn’t be fun, or that it should be more than fun, will sound even sillier than the claim that there are cosmic moral dimensions in a football game.

“l’ll have a few inches more height this year, Sam. The board has given me an executive post on Mars, and executives have to be dominant, you know. And I’d like a 12-inch penis; competition for women is fierce out there. Blue eyes, I guess. Trim down the waist a little.”

-Instructions from a businessman to his biotailor in the future

Artificial fertilization is only part of what Gordon Rattray Taylor character­ized as The Biological Time Bomb. The bigger part is the concept of genetic engineering, which can be practically defined as the science of redesigning humanity to become anything it wants to become. As Nobel laureate Joshua Lederberg puts it, “The ultimate applica­tion of molecular biology would be the direct control of nucleotide sequences. . . to regulate, for example, the size of the human brain by prenatal or postnatal intervention.” When pregnancy regularly occurs outside the female body and inside the -laboratory, such interventions will become common.

Some molecular biologists already have carried the concept of genetic en­gineering to the point of seeking physi­cal immortality in this generation. Paul Segall of the University of California at Berkeley, for instance, has in­vested 17 years in a search for the for­mula to reverse aging, and reports are that he will have a dramatic announce­ment about the time this article is pub­lished. Dr. Jose Froimovich, president of the Chilean Society of Gerontology and II-time nominee for the Nobel Prize in medicine, has also announced a major breakthrough “in the fight against aging,” and Dr. Johan Bjorksten is working on a formula that he says might raise aver­age life expectancy to a minimum of 150 years. Dr. Timothy Leary, always the bard of the avant minority in science, argues plausibly that if we mount a national campaign similar to the atomic Manhattan Project of the Forties or the space race of the Sixties, we can have immortality before 1990.

Another brave futurist, Dr. Isaac Asimov, points out in The Genetic Code that there seems to be a basic 60-year cycle between an intellectual break­through in the sciences and a total transformation of society by the new technology it unleashes. For instance, Edison noted electronic energy in 1883; 60 years later, electronic technology was phasing out electric technology, radar had helped win the war and TV had been perfected (although not yet on the mar­ket). Similarly, Goddard fired his first rocket into the air in 1926, and 60 years later, in 1986, we will be well along in the exploration of the inner planets. As Asimov concludes, since DNA was iden­tified in 1944, genetic technology should have revolutionized society by 2004; 1974 was the mid-point of that cycle, and the applications should be raining on us every year from this point forward.

At a minimum, genetic engineering will produce newborn humans within 30 years who will be a quantum leap ahead of modern humanity (which already has a life span 30 years longer than the aver­age in 1840 England). As F. M. Esfandiary baldly proclaims in his Up-Wingers, “A Futurist Manifesto,” “Today, when we speak of immortality and of going to another world, we no longer mean these in a theological or metaphysical sense. People are now striving for physical im­mortality. People are now traveling to other worlds. Transcendence has become a reality.”

“Oh, baby, that was fantastic. I felt as though I came for hours.”

“You did-just under twenty hours, in fact.”

                        -Postcoital intimacies of the near future

Another trait of tomorrow’s lovers will be their ability to turn on at will with a little help from their chemical friends. Nathan S. Kline, M.D., says in Psychotropic Drugs in the Year 2000 that we can expect real and specific aphrodisiacs by that date, as well as drugs that “foster or terminate mother­ing impulses.” The former class of drugs, increasing maternal behavior, will no doubt be joyously endorsed by gentry like Billy Graham and widely prescribed by doctors and psychiatrists grappling with the housewife syndrome; but the latter group, terminating the whole mothering program, will be seized upon by dedicated career women and, if outlawed by establishment pressures, will be bootlegged by women’s lib groups.

And this is only the new stuff. Many currently popular counterculture drugs are, if not real and specific aphrodisiacs, certainly powerful enhancers of sexual­ity, and they will not disappear-despite witch-hunts, secret-police tactics, mid­night raids and a general reign of terror against users. They will remain and become a larger part of the general public’s ecstasy arsenal. As Baba Ram Dass has testified: “Tim [Leary] is absolutely right about LSD enhancing sex. Before taking LSD, I never stayed in a state of sexual ecstasy for hours on end, but I have done this under LSD. It heightens all of your senses, and it means that you’re living the sexual ex­perience totally.”

One of the interviewees in Barbara Lewis’ The Sexual Powers of Marijuana testifies to curing herself of frigidity by use of the devil weed: “We turned on, and I can tell you, I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I was really turned on. . . . We spent two hours at loveplay, the most intense loveplay, just letting it happen. . . . Finally, I went out of con­trol-my facial muscles were twitching. My arms began to tingle. . . like it was just too much, as if I would explode. I just couldn’t stand it. Then, when he got on top of me and we started fuck­ing, I knew that it was going to happen and that nothing could stop it. It sounds silly, but I felt out in the universe. . . and I saw myself out there surrounded by stars.”

Drugs that are either safer or less like­ly to spook the herd than grass, coke and acid are certainly on the way. Dr. Kline predicts that by 2000 we will have drugs to control, reverse, accelerate or extinguish virtually any emotion or com­pulsion. Katamine (researched by Dr. John C. Lilly and allegedly given to astro­nauts to prepare them for zero gravity) seems to detach brain from body (and from body emotions) and leave one suspended in the yogic samadhi state for an hour at a time, as compared with the brief seconds of samadhi at LSD peak.

“Hey, man, I’ve got some Ein­stein RNA-perfect for that physics exam you’ve got coming up. Only barter, no money. I’m looking for X-adrenaline for the track meet. Can you score it for me?”

“Well, I’ve got some triptophan­the stuff that stops time-and there’s a guy in the philosophy depart­ment who’s always trying to score more of that. I’ll see if he knows where X-adrenaline is being dealt.”

-Two technology junkies doing business, 1990

Bio-feedback promises even more than biochemicals-especially since Americans are not as paranoid about technology as they are about chemistry. Brain-wave research has already shown how to program oneself for the alpha, beta, theta and delta states, which makes about 50 percent of the traditional yoga blissouts readily available to us today in somewhat less than two weeks-com­pared with anywhere from one to several years of orthodox hath a-yoga training. Continuation of this research can be expected to yield precise control of sex­ual-peak states (along with other de­sirable neural states) within a decade.

In fact, shortly before completion of this article, a major breakthrough in sexual bio-feedback was announced jointly by Rutgers Medical School in New Jersey and Harvard University in Massachusetts, involving research in which male subjects tried to control the allegedly involuntary function of erec­tion, with and without bio-feedback. The group using bio-feedback showed a 60 percent increase in voluntary control, while the other group showed only ten percent. In related research, bio-feed­back has helped a subject-previously homosexual and then totally asexual as a result of crude behavior-modifica­tion techniques-to once again develop normal sexual functioning and to use it heterosexually.

Projecting such voluntary control over previously involuntary sexual functions only one or two decades into the future, one can easily see how the feats of tantric yogis or such LSD specialists as Dr. Leary and Ram Dass – e.g., staying in sexual ecstasy for hours on end-will be possible to anyone with a few weeks’ training in bio-feedback.

“Oh, darling, remember the night we met-the stars, the music and . . . us? I’d give anything to be back there again.”

“Hold on, while I plug you in.”

            -50th wedding anniversary conversation, 2001

Meanwhile, ESB – trade jargon for electrical stimulation of the brain – is opening as many neural doors as psyche­delics and bio-feedback combined. In one famous ESB experiment, a group of rats became so turned on by pressing a button that sent current into the pleas­ure center of their brains that they starved to death, ignoring the food button in order to go on pleasuring themselves. In another test, an enraged bull was stopped in mid-charge by an ESB wave activated by Yale physiolo­gist J. M. R. Delgado.

Dr. Delgado has more recently specialized in retrieval of sensation by ESB. From his reports, it appears as if the sexual gourmets Of 1990.not only will have aphrodisiacs to intensify pleasure, bio-feedback training to con­trol the previously involuntary functions (thereby abolishing frigidity, impotence and premature ejaculation) and freedom from worry about unwanted pregnancies, they will also be able to re-experience any particular sexual sensation at will.

It staggers the mind to project what future sexologists will accomplish when they learn to combine the Masters and Johnson retraining techniques with bio­feedback, neurochemicals such as LSD and katamine, and ESB. Only those who already know such arcana as “A blow­job is ten times better with pot” or “Any orgasm is 50 times wilder with coke” will be able to imagine the sensual re­birth in store when, the taboos crum­bling, science is able to frankly explore and teach the magnification and inten­sification of sexual experience.

The “hedonic engineering” forecast by Dr. Timothy Leary will then become a reality. His general scenario for the outcome is as plausible as any and more likely than most: “[The future] will be scientific in essence and science fiction in style. . . . Politically, it will stress individualism, decentralization of au­thority, a live-and-let-live tolerance of difference, local option and a mind-your-­own-business libertarianism. . . . It will continue the trend toward open sexual expression and a more honest, realistic acceptance of both the equality and the magnetic difference between the sexes. . . . Advances in modern science now make it possible to develop an understanding of the nervous system, its evolution in the individual and the species, and the effects of chemical and electrical adjuvants on its expanding functions. . . . This understanding. . . is leading to a truly scientific philosophy of a self-responsible human nature.”

In other words, .as we gain precise control over our nervous systems (a practical science that Leary calls neu­rologic), we will have less and less re­semblance to the glandular-emotional robotism that the behaviorists found in studies of animals. Instead of being programmed and controlled by “involun­tary” functions, we will program and control those functions ourselves. Then, at last, the alleged purpose of political democracy – “the pursuit of happi­ness” – will be more than a wistful phrase; it will become a practical goal.

The self programming man or woman has no quarrel with deviates, heretics and subcultures of bizarre belief, so long as they in turn remain nonviolent and noncoercive. This is why those with the greatest joy in life – the economical­ly secure aristocracies, the bohemian drop-out groups who accept poverty as the price of freedom-have always had the greatest tolerance for sexual (and other) heretics. As general misery de­creases and self-programming skill in­creases, a similar tolerance will spread into all segments of society. The quarrel between the Playboy bachelor and the women’s lib careerist, or between the hetero and the gay, will seem as absurd as the War of the Roses or the feud between Big-endians and Little-endians in Gulliver’s Travels.

The loose tolerance introduced by such overtouted and imperfect systems as psychoanalysis and behavior modi­fication will escalate into real tolerance when true neurologic and hedonic en­gineering are unleashed in the next decade or two. Norman O. Brown’s visionary version of Freud’s “polymor­phous perversity” (total sensory turn ­on) will inevitably follow.

“Hi, I’m Joe and this is my sub­stitute, ACE-IV,”

“Gee, he’s cute.”

                        -Singles’ bar come-on of the Eighties

The vibrator – first a, shady joke, then a growing fad – has already pre­pared us for the technologization of sex, so introduction of the artificial sex part­ner will come as little surprise. Rudi­mentary doll-like models are already for sale; one (called the Deep Throat model, naturally) is even capable of performing fairly realistic fellatio. Hedy Lamarr’s autobiography, Ecstasy and Me, reveals that a former lover of hers had a very elaborate imitation – Hedy manufactured to give him solace when their affair went on the rocks. Such developments indi­cate that in sex, as elsewhere, desire plus money equal results – or, as George S. Kaufman once said of a friend’s new estate, “This is what God could have done, if He’d had money.”

Are we talking about substitute sex for the crippled, the malformed, the hopelessly ugly or neurotic? Only in the first generation of such technology. Brain-wave and other bio-feedback studies lead inevitably into the concept of cybernetic sex robots programmed to scan neural signals from the human partner and provide exactly, precisely, exquisitely what is desired in every second of sexual union. In fact, reports from Masters and Johnson indicate that their crude and precybernetic (brainless) ACE model (artificial coital equipment) produced glorious orgasms and no psychological frustration in the women who tried it. Eventually such mechanized substitutes can be programmed for an effect “better than the real thing,” as William S. Burroughs fantasized in his Sixties sci-fi novel The Soft Machine.

Right now, as you read, Johns Hop­kins Applied Physics Laboratory in Baltimore possesses a 100-pound robot, affectionately dubbed The Beast, that knows how to “feed” itself; i.e., to seek electric outlets and recharge its circuits when its power runs low. Sim One, an experimental robot at University of Southern California, has the external features of a man, stands over six feet tall and has a normal pulse rate, blood pressure and heartbeat; is white-skin­ colored, moves its diaphragm and chest in simulation of breathing, and even possesses a tongue, teeth and vocal cords. Sim’s keepers plan improved models that will sweat, bleed, cry out in pain and eventually ‘replace cadavers in training medical students. The Sim One of today combined with the Masters and Johnson ACE of today would ‘already constitute a crud_ artificial playmate for women. A more complete Hedy Lamarr doll (or Linda Lovelace, or Raquel Welch) cannot be far away.

“Wonder why Smith 23X hasn’t come out of his house in the past week? And what are all those buzz­ing and humming mechanical noises?”

“I dunno. But a truck marked Artificial Paradise made a big delivery there last Thursday”

                        -Back-fence gossip, circa 1985

Yes: why not a totally programmed sexual environment? Saul Kent, who has described this concept as “multi­media masturbation,” envisions sex tapes for the house computer, programmed for the ideal all-around sexual trip – with or without partner. Already, X-rated motels in California provide water beds and closed-circuit, TV featuring porn films, so that a shy couple can have a simulated orgy and share their real selves ‘with each other and the images of Georgina Spelvin, Harry Reems and Marilyn’ Chambers. The next step, easily obtainable for the rich even now, is to program the whole inner environment of the bedroom for a fantasy that goes well with the sex act. ES.B control of brain centers via this computer-pro­grammed artificial environment would give, in Burroughs’ perfect phrase, “pre­cise control over thought, feeling and apparent sensory impression” (italics his). Reality in that room would be whatever you wanted it to be.

Multimedia pornography will enthrall millions when it first appears; porn light shows, porn 3-D and porn holograms are the dawning intimations of a revolution that will climax – certainly by the early years of the next century – when the difference between porn and the arti­ficial sex mate will no longer be visible: Multimedia solipsism and all-channel masturbation will be the pleasure norms.

Such a sensory revolution would amount to the creation of a fifth brain, or neurosomatic brain, according to Dr. Leary, who contends that we al­ready have four: a survival-program brain, an emotional-territory brain, a symbolic-logic brain and a sex-bonding brain. The new neurosomatic brain will give us eventual total control of sensa­tion for a state of rapture. Yogis, sha­mans and modern research subjects in sensory deprivation (i.e., environmental monotony) turn on this fifth brain, at least temporarily, and forever after rave about the pure bliss they have experi­enced – the sheer godliness of it an: “I AM who AM.” “I have become God,” wrote Baudelaire, the French poet, and he was under the influence of only a single crude neurochemical (hashish) and never knew the effects of the bio­feedback and brain-wave technology currently dawning.

There is also, according to Dr. Leary, a potential sixth brain in which “neuro­physical transformations can be ac­complished,” or that which our ancestors called magic or sorcery; a potential seventh brain containing the “neu­rogenetic archives,” which will allow us to tap the DNA/RNA dialog and to consciously recall all incidents in evolution and all lessons previously kept on autopilot (the unconscious), thus mak­ing us consciously 3.5 billion years old and consciously immortal; an eighth brain, or metaphysiological circuit, link­ing us to all other high intelligences in the galaxy. This last has also been re­ported by Dr. Lilly in hisSimulations of God.

Another road to godsmanship is mapped by physicist R. C. W. Ettinger – the man who started the” immortality (called, more properly, cryonics) movement of the Sixties’ with the utopian slogan “Freeze-wait-reanimate!” Pro­fessor Ettinger now argues, in Man into Superman (1972), that after molecular biology really gets into high gear, “the sexual superwoman may be riddled with cleverly designed orifices of various kinds, something like a wriggly Swiss cheese, but shapelier and more fragrant; and her supermate may sprout assorted protuberances, so that they intertwine and roll over each other in a million permutations of The Act, tireless as hydraulic pumps . . . A perpetual grap­ple, no holes barred, could produce a continuous state of multiple orgasm.”

It will be noted that Professor Ettin­ger gets to the same projected desti­nation (ecstatic mind) by a totally different line of scientific projection. Most of the bright-eyed young guys in molecular biochemistry these days have their own personal road maps to that destination. One physicist, with whom I recently participated in a radio discussion of futurism, even has a plan for man­kind to achieve ecstatic immortality by its becoming lasers.

A significant-though subtle-part of this sexual transformation of humanity has already occurred in the Western world. Few realize today that the church fathers’ horrible anal metaphors for sex (stinking, filthy, putrid, etc.) were largely accurate in a literal sense, until modern medicine and the development of soap made bodily sweetness accessible to more than the very rich. As Aldous Huxley paints out in hisTomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, these puri­tanical put-downs of the body as well as the old aristocratic sneers at “the stinking masses” were quite natural to the fastidious of those days. R. Buck­minster Fuller remarks in his Utopia or Oblivion that members of the average workingman’s family in 1905 – when Fuller’s family first moved to Carbondale, Illinois – were foul-smelling, toothless and ready far death at age 42.

The sexual revolution, like the world’s political-economic revolutions, stems from the disfavor that people don’t have to remain foul, and the future shack of our time is due entirely to the acceleration of technology, since theological and political terrorists have not been able to punish researchers (except far non-Lamarckian geneticists in Russia and psychedelic therapists in the U.S.A.).

“Sylvia, will you marry me?”

“Yes, but we’ll have to wait­ – I’m going male for the next couple of months, to do research for my new tape novel.”

-Two lovers, circa 2025

Peeking further into the mid-dis­tance – early m. the next century – the rise of life expectancy to 500 years (the goal far which biologist Paul Segall is aiming right now) wm probably make sex-change operations fashionable for many who are not psychological trans­sexuals in the traditional sense. Rather, many will want to became the opposite sex temporarily for such purposes as (1) curiosity-scientific, sexual or otherwise; (2) “personal growth,” i.e., the artistic, literary or philosophical stimulation; or (3) entering a new extraplanetary environment where either the small, tough, long-lived female body or the large-muscled, quickly aggressive male body might be decidedly advantageous aver the other.

A great deal of the erotic realism of such writers as Joyce, D. H, Lawrence, and even, at times, Hemingway, is an attempt to get inside the female mind and see men – in the sex act and in other relationships – as women see them. Pre­sumably, many gynecologists and obstetricians share empathetically in the female functions they tend to, and many an artist has decidedly fused into the glorious nude female models he paints. The desire to became the opposite sex far a while is also evident in women’s writings, especially women’s lib tracts. Sex change in the future will not be restricted to compulsive people.

“She’s wearing see- through shoes – must be a foot fetishist, too.”  – Street comment of the next decade

Buckminster Fuller and Robert Hein­lein, among other futurists, have pre­dicted that clothes will be phase out as temperature and climate control are realized. My own hunch is that nudity will be everywhere (already many California beaches are as casual as Den­mark’s), but that clothes will also be everywhere; the difference will be that clothes will serve primarily as sexual signaling devices, which, according to one school of anthropology, was their original function.

Kubrick’s joke in A Clockwork Orange, imagining a revival of the Ren­aissance codpiece, or enlarged peter-heater, may be a quite accurate prediction. Similar declarations for the female breasts already exist in porn and in other entertainment, and may soon escape into the streets. The old homosexual code – green on Thursdays – may be flooded in an ocean of similar sartorial signals as S/M people, exhibitionists and other erotic minorities go public.

“I didn’t get any last night-my clone had a headache.”   – Locker-room lament of the year 2000

If eugenists’ dreams are to soon come true, so then will same of their nightmares. As hundreds of Albert Schweitzers and Albert Einsteins are reproduced in the laboratories when genetic roulette has a fixed wheel, then the public, having other interests besides humanism and science, will demand and get real-life duplicates of contemporary Mick Jaggers and Marilyn Monroes.

The Mick Jagger of 2005, in fact, will probably graduate from millionaire to billionaire by selling clones of himself out of which millions of Mick Jaggers will be mass produced for all the lust­ful lads and lassies who dig the real Mick Jagger. Why not? Any guy today can already have Norma Jean the Angel Child just by closing his eyes. A millionaire with a cosmetic surgeon and a female subject possessing (to start with) 70 percent of the basic physical equipment can have her with eyes open.

“Are you still hung up on that Sophia Loren gyndroid? Let me show you how to tune your brain waves into this euphometer and focus into perpetual ecstasy. . . .”

-Evil social influence, 2025

Could sex, after achieving its full flowering, wither away entirely? Is the true future of sex no sex at all? When reproduction is confined to the laboratory and sex has only the function of pleasure communication, it may well develop that even the most intensified sex cannot compete with generalized neural pleasure. This may or may not define eternal masturbation, depending on haw strictly one identifies sex with genitalia.

Herbert Marcuge predicts, in Eros and Civilization, that such a hedonic technology will retool the human nervous system in the same general direction of continual rapture foreseen in Norman O. Brown’sLove’s Body. (Same adepts of yoga and LSD claim to have achieved this already.) It is striking that the Dionysian visions of Brown and Marcuse, based entirely an Freud’s anal­ysis of what the Unconscious mind really wants, are quite similar to the consensus of futurist probes into what the oncoming biotechnology can deliver. This can hardly be coincidence. Evidently, we have always sought our deepest yearn­ings, though consciously only daring to express them as myths or fantasies, while pretending to ourselves that we were accepting the grim, pessimistic, hardnosed view of the hurt-child aspect of ourselves.

Commenting on Dr. Otto. Fenichel’s observation that “behind every farm of play lies a process of discharge of masturbatory fantasies,” Brown says: “Nothing wrong, except [Fenichel’s] refusal to play: When our eyes are opened to the symbolic meaning, our only refuge is lass of shame, polymorphous perversity, pansexualism; penises everywhere. As in tantric yoga, in which any sexual act may become a farm of mystic meditation, and any mystic state may be interpreted sexually.”

The civilization of polymorphous perversity forecast by Brown, the society without repression described by Marcuse, the hedonic engineering of Leary, are dawning, and those who. think I’ve been writing about our children or grandchildren are mistaken.’ If star flight and immortality arrive when same futurists expect (1990 to. 2010), then, even as the last of the anxiety-ridden terrestrial mortals are reading and re­jecting this article, some of the first of the ecstatic cosmic immortals are also reading it and accepting it.

Letter to Green Egg, September 1975

letter to the editor of Green Egg
from Vol. VIII, No 73, Mabon, September 21, 1975

Dear Green Eggers,

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.

Z Budapest seems to have a positive genius for insulting/offending earthian bipeds of the male gender. Such persons, of course, do not HAVE TO re-act in a mechanical insulted/offended manner. (we are all dreadfully free.) For instance, when I am insulted or offended, I absolutely refuse to re-act. Instead, I act. That is, I use the non-identification technique of Korzybski and Gurdjieff, the so-called “cortical delay” or “Self Remembering,” in which one opens a void within the hyphen of the stimulus-response of the Behaviorist mechanism. In that silent void, anything can hap­pen. Alternatives to being insulted or offended, automatically appear: one can be amused, or find some constructive use for the aroused energy in one’s inner Work, or one can logically analyze how one provoked the insult or offense, etc. etc. etc. (If one finds that one provoked the insult or offense by the garb one happens to be wearing–rich or poor, a male or female body, white or black skin etc.–then one can analyze how the other party was conditioned into such a mechanical emotional reflex and use the insight to search for whatever similar reflexes may still be active in one­self. E.g., having gotten past racism, sexism, human chauvinism and G-Star chauvinism–the latter thanks to Carl Sagan – I am currently working on my vitalism, the bigoted assumption that organic compounds are somehow higher or better than inorganic compounds.)

But I digress (as usual). To return to my point, analogically, a survivor of Buchenwald told a French journalist. “When they came for the Jews, I didn’t protest because I’m not Jewish. When they came for the Communists, I didn’t protest because I’m not a Communist. When they came for the Trade Unionists, I didn’t protest because I’m not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for me.” We owe what remains intact of the Bill of Rights to a motley assortment of Jehovah’s Witnesses, communists, Trotskyists, nazis, atheists and bigots of various stripe who were fanatic enough to fight for their own rights (even while being eager, in many cases, to deprive the rest of us of our rights). The resulting Supreme Court decisions in these “unclean” cases are precisely what, paradoxically, preserved the liberties, such as they are, of all of us. I have never met Z Buda­pest, but I doubt that she can be more difficult or pugnacious than Madalyn Murray O’Hair. We all owe a lot to Madalyn, and we will probably end up owing a lot to Z.

In important civil liberties cases, the ac­cused is often as megalomaniac as Giordano Bruno, as paranoid as Wilhelm Reich (in old age), as conceited and grandiose as Galileo, or as putrid as the local neo-nazis. It doesn’t matter. CIVIL LIBERTIES ARE INDIVISIBLE. I leaped to the defense of Wilhelm Reich, M.D., in 1957, because government book-burning is an attack on all of us, period. It was only 3 years later, in 1960, that I began to suspect there might be some truth in Reich’s “crazy’ orgone theory. CIVIL LIBERTIES ARE INDIVISIBLE. (“If they can take John Han­cock’s wharf, they can take your cow or my barn.” –John Adams) Every day Timothy Leary spends in jail is a day that you or I can spend in jail later, if the Leary convictions are not overturned and ruled unconstitutional. If any belief can be punished on Tuesday, any other belief can be punished on Wednesday. CIVIL LIBERTIES ARE INDI­VISIBLE. Those who will not fight for the civil liberties of those they detest as hard as they will fight for the civil liberties of themselves and their friends, do not deserve, and will not retain, any civil liberties. Government is a hungry monster, and every bite it takes into any­body’s liberty encourages it to take ten bites more.

If the history of Hitler, Stalin and Amerika-unter-Nixon teaches anything, it teaches that the State is the real, immediate enemy of all decent, natural people; and that the heretic of any stripe (even if SHe is plotting to become the next State) is (while SHe remains a heretic and not a State) a valuable ally in two ways (1) SHe can provoke us into new thoughts, which those who agree with us can never do, and (2) by fighting like hell for hir own civil liberties SHe is indirectly helping all the rest of us.

This does not mean or imply that I like Z Budapest personally or that I dislike her. I haven’t met her. If I do meet her, it won’t matter to this position whether I like her or not. The issue is historical; the local actors are unimportant.

Since Walter Breen has revealed (on the authority of two anonymous sources) that Dr. Leary has been brainwashed by the FBI, let me reveal (on the authority of another anonymous source) that Dr. Leary actually died of a sex-change operation in Las Vegas last November. The latter rumor has actually been broadcast on several underground radio stations and is, therefore, even more reliable than Breen’s rumor. Just to add to the fun, let me assure you all that I have in my files a letter in which Leary confesses to working for the Central Intelligence Agency since 1962. (I suppose if he’d said the Illuminati, some fools would think he was joking, but since he said it this way the same fools will think he’s serious.) Behind the mythology, the real Leary has produced his most brilliant two scientific books in the last year and is currently editing a special issue of Spit in the Ocean magazine on Contact with Higher Intelligence; the calibre of the contributors, and of Leary’s own commentaries, will make this issue a landmark in American scientific and literary history.

Why do so few Pagans understand the real rela­tionship between Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd? (I will leave it to the engenium of the reader to de­cide whether that koan’s a commentary on the last paragraph of the next paragraph.)

J. Gordon Melton’s statement that Israel Regardie “is said to belong” to the O.T.O. run by Kenneth Grant and (locally) David L. Smith will certainly be news to all three of those earthian bipeds. I certainly hope that they manage to retain their sense of humor when writing to set the record straight. If not, let them recall that Uncle Aleister himself once stated that A.E. Waite was “the disciple Crowley loved best.” (“Whom the Lord loveth, he chastiseth.”) We are all quite comical creatures, when you come to think of it.

I have even heard rumors that I’m the Head of the Bavarian Illuminati, while, as everybody really Inside knows, that monster has two heads, namely Richard, Duc de Palatine, and Daffy, Duc de Hollywood.

J.E.A. Martin’s thoughtful “The Twilight of Science” makes some good points but is, for me at least, vitiated by missing the Most Important Point. (i.e., the one that seems most important to my nervous system…) Classical science was the synergetic product of two previously separate traditions: namely, empirical manual doings (out of the medieval guilds and crafts) and abstract symbolic thinkings (out of rediscovered Greek logic-dialectic). When these two came together, classical science (= logical empiricism) emerged, a synergy, greater than the sum of its two parts. In 300 years, this made more changes, good and bad, than the planet has experienced in the previous 300,000.

Today, a new science is emerging, at a higher synergetic level, combining craft doings, logical thinkings and yogic-shamanic beings. (Or becomings.) The psychedelic research of the 1950s – early 1960s opened the door, which has been opened wider by: the emergence of parapsychology out of the shadows into respectability; the occult revival (and its effect on the more open-minded parapsychologists); the Orientalization of America via yoga, Zen, I Ching, etc. etc.; various feedbacks and interfaces between the above trends; and the continual advance of physics into – well, into the state where a serious research project should be named “The Hunting of the Quark,” after two fantasies by James Joyce and Lewis Carroll respectively. The new science of logical-empirical shamanism will probably be even more revolutionary than the classical science was. (Already it has shaken the Establishment enough to have its own martyrs to set beside Bruno, Gali1eo, Servitius, etc.: in this country, Reich and Leary; in Mexico, Dr. Salvador Roquet; etc.)

Which brings me back to my original point. At such historical junctures, when a new Gestalt is emerging and transformation is rapid, there is an escalation of anxiety, which easily becomes paranoia, and witch-hunts result. Those who do not put maximum effort into defending all civil lib­erties, at such junctures, may be the very next victims of the rising hysteria.

Immortality, Starflight, Higher Intelligence, and hope,

Robert Anton Wilson

Neurologic, Immortality & All That

Neurologic, Immortality & All That

by Robert Anton Wilson

 from Green Egg, Vol. VIII, No 72
Lughnasad, August 1, 1975

Ritual is to the internal sciences what experiment is to the external sciences.   – Timothy Leary PhD

Self-denial is simply the self-expres­sion of self-denying people… Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. Or, as Mr. Shaw himself says, the golden rule is that there is no golden rule.   – Aleister Crowley, Gospel According to St. Bernard Shaw 

What is John Guilt?   – Atlanta Hope, Telemaahus Sneezed

Valerie Twilight’s letter in Green Egg VII, 71, raises so many interesting points that the only responsive and responsible an­swer is a new article, not another letter.

Ms. Twilight has some trouble understand­ing the published version of Neurologic; this is not surprising, since Dr. Leary wrote this essay in a hurry, with no re­search sources available, on the floor of a solitary confinement cell, under a 40-watt bulb. A longer (400-page) and much more popularized version of Neurologic was fin­ished shortly before Dr. Leary disappeared last year, but it, alas, disappeared along with him. (If a great scientist had similarly disappeared in Russia, and his greatest book along with him, the liberals would be having the fits, the shits, and the blind staggers about it; but, since it happened in the US, we can be sure that Dr. Leary is cooperating voluntarily with his captors, of course. Of course, of course, of course.)

To Ms. Twilight’s questions:

There are many ways in which the higher circuits can be activated and imprinted. Along with metaprogramming substances such as LSD or peyote, Dr. Leary has discussed (a) certain stressful illnesses, such as schizophrenia and epilepsy, (b) narrow escapes from death, and (c) the empirical techniques developed by shamans and yogis over the past 30,000 years. Judging from anthropological literature, the most widespread device has been the combination of metaprogramming chemicals with (b) narrow escape from death (or some pretense of such narrow escape) to frighten the student into the neural surrender-ecstasy of the death-trip.

The second most common method appears to be deliberate “starving out” or atrophying of the first four circuits. Patanjali’s systemization of yoga, two milleniums ago, had already simplified this to the basic steps of (1) asana the rigid posture which turns off the First Circuit (bio-survival forward-back movement) by ignoring it; (2) pranayama, regulated breathing, which turns off the Second Circuit (emotional domination -submission rituals) by stabilizing the emotional bio-energy; (3) dharana, concentration on one image (or mantra, concentration on one sound) which starves out the Third Circuit (symbolic consciousness, or the “internal monologue”); and (4) yama-niyama, or detachment and celibacy, which starves out the Fourth Circuit (sex-domesticity) by simply dropping out of the reproductive cycle. (An alternative to (4) is Tantra, which mutates the sex-energy directly into higher-circuit energy by what Dr. Leary calls “the delicate Hedonic Engineering” of postponed orgasm.) When the energy of the bioplasm is thus withdrawn from the first four circuits, it has nowhere to go but into the higher circuits.

It is not true, incidentally, that metaprogramming chemicals only turn on the higher circuits temporarily. The actual process seems to follow the equation (written by me, but accepted as a sound expression of his ideas by Dr. Leary):

Bn = Bo + Pn + S

where Bn is new behavior (including new con­sciousness, or new intelligence), Bo is old behavior, Pn is a new program and S is SHOCK in the Gurdjieffian sense, which in the case of metaprogramming chemicals is the chemical itself (and in other cases is the fright or near-death experience used in initiations of most shamanic schools). The most effective new program (Pn) is a ritual, or dramatic performance, which involves the entire neuro-glandular-muscular etc. systems, i.e. the organism-as-a-whole. (The rejection of rit­ual in modern psychotherapy is the chief cause of the ineffectiveness of said therapy. This avoidance represents, in semantic terms, confusing the map with the territory. That is, the “map”–the language–in which ritual has been traditionally discussed is “pre-scientific,” and therefore, modern psycho­therapists, trying to be very “scientific,” have phobically avoided the territory, the rituals themselves.)

An equally effective Pn is the chakra system of Sufism and kundalini yoga, which can be considered an internal ritual. Since there is not so much semantic phobia invol­ved here, many schools of modern psychother­apy have created rough approximations of this ancient science, e.g. Reichian bio-en­ergetic therapies, Gestaltism, Rolfing, etc… When the SHOCK of the metaprogramming chemical is not accompanied by any conscious­ly-chosen P– i.e. when the subject is just “tripping” for the sheer hell of it – the environmental set, whatever it is, provides an unintentional Pn. Lack of understanding of this point has given the metaprogramming chemicals an inaccurate reputation for “un­predictability.” Intelligently used, they are more predictable than any other behavior-modifying technology of the past 30,000 years; which is why so many shamans have used them.

Turning now to the question of immortal­ity, it is of course true that Circuit 4 (sex-reproduction) already provides basic genetic immortality. (The first 3 circuits have to do with survival in space; circuit 4 transmits the genetic code through time. This is why Nobel Prize geneticist Herbert Muller once joked, quite profoundly, that we are giant robots created by DNA to make more DNA.) On Circuit 7, basic neurogenetic con­sciousness, we tap directly into the DNA-RNA dialogue and experience that 3½-billion year old genetic mind which is the meaning of Pan, Brahma, the World Spirit, etc. This “collective memory” is the origin of the reincar­nation metaphor, probably.

The new immortality, or immortality2, becoming rapidly available in the next 10-15 years as genetic engineering advances, will confront each human with the option of new 8-circuit survival as an entity (for the first time in history). Many, like Ms. Twi­light, will undoubtedly choose the tradition­al path. There is nothing wrong with that at all. Evolution proceeds, always, through diversity, not through uniformity. The point is that, when this choice and the oth­er options of genetic engineering become available, humanity will cease to exist as an entity. There will be several human stocks, one of which will almost certainly choose the Maximum Trip, i.e. total reprogramming for higher intelligence, greater emotional equilibrium, continuous high-circuit ecstasy, immortality, eternal youth and beauty, cos­mic exploration, and (probably) eventual Circuit 8 fusion into the (hypothesized) Galactic Mind, made up of all races, galaxy-wide, who have chosen the Maximum Trip and are evolving toward Perfection, i.e. Cosmic Godhood.

The three main human stocks, Dr. Leary predicts, will be the Maximum Trippers or time-travelers, as discussed above, and (2) the planetary colonists, who will evolve in various ways on various planets, all of them divergent from the Earth-norm, as local gra­vitational and other fields determine, and (3) the stay-at-homes, who will probably ev­olve toward some variety of insectoid socia­lism (since that is about the only way the oncoming world-round Technocracy can be man­aged).

More concretely and immediately, the on­coming biological revolution will provide options, for the first time in history, on whether or not to continue such phenomena as idiocy, imbecility, various chronic diseases, the general emotional plague and mental in­stability of larval humanity, ugliness, crippling, deformity, etc. Once again, Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. The existence of the option does not mean that anybody must choose beauty and health and immortality etc.; those who really pref­er the old ways must have the freedom to retain personal ugliness and sickness and death, etc. Diversity is the path of evolution.

In terms of DT. Leary’s famous Two Commandments for the neurological age:

1. Thou shalt not alter the consciousness of thy neighbor without his or her consent.

2. Thou shalt not prevent thy neighbor from altering his or her own consciousness.

Like Dr. Leary, I personally prefer the Maximum Trip, i.e. serial reincarnation (through neural re-imprinting) within one time-traveling starship until eventual Cos­mic Fusion is reached. Again, like Or. Leary, I do not see any need to preach or harangue about the matter. The future evo­lution of humanity must be self-selecting. Those who are going to the stars, are going; those who are staying behind, are staying behind. The job of the neurologician is to make the options available, as quickly as possible, before the present Circuit 2 programs, as escalated and accelerated by tech­nology, wipe out humanity entirely.

Attachment to the Earth-womb is rein­forced on each of the first four circuits, where the bonds are made to mother or mother -substitute (Circuit 1 security), to father or father-substitute (Circuit 2 power), to tribal lore or academic regulations (Circuit 3 knowledge) and to one’s own family and offspring (Circuit 4 responsibility).

On the higher circuits, there are higher bonds. Specifically, the massive opening-activation of Circuit 5 rapture in the 1960s (the first historical occasion of millions of illuminations in one decade) partially misfired because the appropriate bond, to a Tantric partner, was imperfectly understood. (In the Tarot symbology, many remained Hanged Men and did not achieve the bonding of the Temperance-Art card’s alchemical fusion.)

Circuit 6, being increasingly activated in the 1970s, is the shamanic circuit  per se, and coded into the Tarot by the cards known as The Devil, The Tower, and The Star. That is, the opening of the circuit (Devil card) is the initial awareness of alien intelli­gences above and (in a sense) within us, ac­tivating every possible paranoia (cf. Colin Wilson’s Mind Parasites); the brain or Ges­talt of the circuit (Tower card) totally fissions and wipes out existing terracentric imprints (classic Samadhi); and the ultimate bonding (Star card) is when the alien pres­ences are recognized as our Galactic Par­ents who have secretly loved and nurtured us all along.

Dr. Jacques Vallee’s new book, The In­visible College, suggests (on the basis of data obtained by feeding UFO contactee stor­ies and traditional religious visions into computers and comparing the two) that Circ­uit 6 awareness always contains the Devil archetype at first, i.e. the fear of the un­known Superior Mind, the dread of “possess­ion,” etc. It is this aspect of the oncoming Gestalt (not neural re-imprinting, gene­tic engineering for immortality and ecstasy, or starflight itself) which will cause the most terror, paranoia, flip-outs and “cont­roversy.” The ruling classes, in particular; cannot constitutionally accept Powers and Intelligences higher than themselves without acute schizoid fugue.

Most people, however, are part of one ruling class or another. That is, they act as authoritarians to those “below” them, even while they act as submissive robots to those “above” them. The opening of the 6th Circuit will, therefore, cause even more panic than the opening of the 5th circuit in the 1960s. This is why it is important for those who understand, more or less, what is happening in genetics, neurology, molecular biology, parapsychology, etc. to communicate as much as possible about this transforma­tion from terrestrial mortality to cosmic immortality. To repeat: it is not necess­ary to preach, since the process remains self-selecting, but it is necessary to explain. The average larval human can only relate to Higher Intelligence with terror, as in the archetypes of the Elders of Zion, Illuminati, Secret Chiefs, invaders-from Mars, etc. The recognition that Higher In­telligence is continually active on this planet will blow many fuses before most hu­mans can see these entities as, in Don Juan’s phrase, “allies.”

In fact, the chief reason that Dr. Leary has been jailed, gagged and held incommuni­cado is that the local authorities under­stand his ideas just well enough to feel threatened, not well enough to accept that the Next Step in evolution (as Crowley and the Sufis call it) is as inevitable, and as self-selecting, as all the previous steps.

Finally, to answer a question Ms. Twi­light didn’t ask, how fast is this metamor­phosis happening? Well, C.P. Snow has said that the biological revolution of this decade will be more profound than the revolu­tion in physics in the decade of Hiroshima (1940s). Rattray Taylor’s Biological Time Bomb predicts that changes more basic than the invention of fire or the wheel will occur by 1980. The foremost molecular biolo­gist known to me is about to unleash a re­port on his latest research, about the same time this article will appear in print, that vastly exceeds the “wildly optimistic” fore­cast given by Leary and Benner in Terra II (1973). Nobody reading this sentence must die; you will have the choice. All the work of Timothy Leary personally, and of myself and my associates in the DNA Society collectively, amounts to no more than pro­viding a scientific-mythic scenario to give depth and context to your decision. As the Christians have been saying (prematurely) for 2000 years, the question of where to spend eternity is in your hands.

In Search of the Apocalyptic Orgasm

In Search of the Apocalyptic Orgasm
Do Various Pills Make for Sexual Thrills?
by Robert Anton Wilson

from Oui, January 1975

One of the most persistent metaphysical questions of mankind has been: “Can sex be made even better?” Open any sex tabloid and you will be confronted with a wide va­riety of products, all promis­ing to deliver the expected miracle. And even if the best of the brews and chemicals won’t actually kill you, the majority are certainly useless. Nonetheless, the search for what Norman Mailer calls the’ apocalyptic orgasm con­tinues, and with good reason. It is emphatically false that there are no real aphrodisiacs.

There are indeed chemicals that have served to enhance and glorify the sex act for many users, and the discour­aging explanation that all such effects are due to self-suggestion is not at all certain. The only scientific verdict at this time must be a large and provocative ques­tion mark. Were we to accept anecdotal testimony as our criteria (which is all the evi­dence we possess right now), the weight of the data would suggest that there are real aphrodisiacs after all.

In traditional folklore, an aphrodisiac is supposed to:

1. Create a sexual desire in the seeker; i.e., cure lethargy or even impotence.

2. Create a sexual desire in some unwilling and unwarned victim; i.e., aid in seduction.

3. Enhance, beautify, in­tensify or glamorize the sexual experience.

There is no magic potion that can be guaranteed to de­liver all three of these results, or even one of them, for all users at all times; in other words, miracles are still known only to the devout. The first law of psychophar­macology is that any reaction to a drug depends on (A) the dosage, (B) the set – the user’s expectations, hopes, fears, beliefs, etc. – and (C) the setting, including not just the physical environment but also the emotional and ideo­logical atmosphere.

To illustrate: Alcohol is the drug most often used as an aphrodisiac in the second sense given above – a tool of seduction. Folklore says that it often works, and as distin­guished a drug expert as Dr. Joel Fort, former consultant to the World Health Organi­zation and author of The Pleasure Seekers, agrees that it does work a lot of the time, both heterosexually and homo­sexually.

Folklore also tells us, and police records confirm, that the results of this booze-to-boudoir strategy are far from certain. If the victim holds puritanical beliefs, it the set­ting is unpropitious or down­right ugly, if the dosage goes too far, the result can be illness instead of bliss, and even cries of “Rape.” All this, of course, flows from the fact that the basic purpose is ex­ploitative and antisocial from the beginning. Similar prob­lems often arise when one attempts to use alcohol as an aphrodisiac in the first sense­ to stimulate oneself. Mas­ters and Johnson bluntly declare booze to be the single most frequent cause of what they call secondary impo­tence – sexual failure in men who are normally virile. This occurs when the dosage is too high: The sedative effect of a little alcohol (which is basi­cally a depressant) makes sex better because it temporarily knocks out the inhibition center in the brain, but the same sedative effect spreads to more and more of the nervous system as the intake increases. One can be sexual­ly hors de combat long before the paralysis has reached the balance centers; i.e., before one is falling-down drunk. One therefore feels high rath­er than blind, and the sexual impotence can be a shock. Masters and Johnson say that many cases of impotence that lasted for years began this way, though it takes a lot of worry and self-doubt (aided by more booze) to keep the pattern going after a single catastrophe.

In general, the same param­eters apply to other chemi­cals. Some users insist that these are aphrodisiacs, without qualification or definition. Others claim that it’s all auto­suggestion. The evidence to date is that the dosage, the set and the setting are all inti­mately involved in the results, which are therefore predicta­ble only in very loose generali­zations.

Spanish fly, or cantharides, the most famous of all al­leged aphrodisiacs, is hardly controversial anymore. Everybody agrees that it’s a bummer. The actual effect is to irritate the genitourinary tract; in a few cases, this irri­tation, coupled with strong autosuggestion, has seemed aphrodisiac. More often, the irritation has been merely ir­ritating. Heavy doses are also poisonous: The Marquis de Sade owes much of his infa­mous reputation to an incident in which he poisoned two pros­titutes by feeding them choco­lates diluted with cantharides. He always insisted that he intended only to inflame their passions.

Other traditional aphrodis­iacs, such as rhinoceros horn, shrimps, oysters, etc., are equally ineffective, if less toxic. Their reputations, an­thropologists agree, are due to the shamanistic habit of thinking analogically. The rhino horn looks like an erect penis, the oyster like a vagi­na, and thus, to the primitive sorcerer, it is logical to hope for stimulating sexual effects. Actually, a diet high in oys­ters and other seafood will keep a man potent if other factors are not depressing his virility. This is true of any diet that stresses protein and avoids excessive carbohy­drates. But there is no special magic in seafood.

Before going further, some definition of terms: A drug is any substance that changes the human being who consumes it. (This is a very general definition, of course; it in­cludes gold, which creates hallucinations, among other symptoms of stress, for those unwise enough to try to digest it.) Drugs that primarily af­fect the mind are usually called psychoactive drugs, or, to use the vernacular, dope.

Dope consists of:

1. Tranquilizers, such as Miltown, Librium and Thor­azine.

2. Barbiturates, such as Seconal, or the derivatives of barbiturate acid.

3. Narcotics, such as alcohol, heroin and morphine.

4. Cannabis, which is in a class by itself.

5. Psychedelics, such as LSD, peyote and psilocybin.

6. Energizers, such as co­caine and the amphetamines.

7. Miscellaneous.

If we forget the question “Are there real aphrodisi­acs?” that hinges on the metaphysical meaning of aphrodisiac and hence can be debated forever, and instead ask “Do any drugs affect sex?,” the answer is a resounding yes! The first three groups on this list have all been linked with impotence, at least for some users. While this is negative knowledge, it at least gives us some grounds for hope that positive effects claimed for other chemicals are not all the result of auto-suggestion.

Male patients on heavy dosages of tranquilizers often become impotent; the dose is then cut and combined with an energizer, whereupon the problem usually clears up. Tofranil in particular has been linked with impotence so often that doctors now warn about this when pre­scribing it, telling the patient to discontinue use if sex­ual functioning is hampered. The same problem arises with heavy use of barbiturates. With opiate narcotics, such as heroin, morphine, Pantopon and Demerol, total impotence is almost invariable once ad­diction has been established. While it is conceivable that studies may someday show that all this is autosuggestion, the weight of the evidence is that these central-nervous-sys­tem depressants also depress the physical sex functions. Those who enjoy these seda­tive or depressant drugs will reply that sex is more trouble than it’s worth. “It was a wom­an that drove me to drink;” W. C. Fields commented, “and I never even thanked her.” Or, as a heroin addict says in Aleister Crowley’s novel Diary of a Drug Fiend, “I have gotten into all sorts of messes with women in the past. Hero­in has destroyed my interest in them.”

Cannabis has been used for sex, reli­gion, medicine and recreation through­out history, worshiped as a god in parts of India and Africa, banned and feared in places as diverse as ancient China and modern America. George Washington thought so highly of this herb that he wrote frequent letters to the gardener at Mount Vernon about its cultivation; Richard Nixon thought so poorly of it that when the National Commission on Marijuana and Drug Abuse reported it harmless, he told them, in effect, to go fly a kite.

Depending on the user’s personality or mood, Cannabis acts like alcohol in de­creasing inhibitions, creating an energetic mood. It also acts like a narcotic in diminishing pain. It acts like the hypnot­ics, such as nitrous oxide (laughing gas), in provoking alternating moods of hilarity and deep introspection. Finally, it acts somewhat like LSD and the psy­chedelics in enhancing colors, sensations and music, and sometimes in producing semi-hallucinations. Sexually, Cannabis has long had the reputation of being the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world. This was part of the folklore cited by the authorities when making the herb illegal in 1937.

This, of course, is the kind of think­ing associated with the mythical concept of aphrodisiacs. If we remember that psychoactive drugs function synergeti­cally within the context of dose, set and setting, we will not be surprised to learn that R. E. L. Masters, surveying the lit­erature from ancient times to the present, found a minority of users re­porting sexual desensitization or out­right impotence while on the weed.

Most recently, a research study group that included William Masters conclud­ed that men smoking between 5 and 18 joints of marijuana a week had expe­rienced reduced levels of plasma testosterone and lower sperm counts. High testosterone levels in the blood have long been associated with the tend­ency toward aggression, and this study suggests that there may be a correspond­ence between high marijuana use and impaired sexual performance in males. One subject of the study group devel­oped potency problems while using marijuana, but his condition quickly reversed when he stopped.

However, another survey of some 300 American users indicated that most of them find marijuana quite stimulating sexually. For example, A.P. reporter Barbara Lewis’ book The Sexual Power of Marijuana reports on women who were (or think they were) cured of fri­gidity by smoking this herb. Similarly, Drs. William McGlothlin and Louis Jolyon West, in a survey published in The American Journal of Psychiatry, found that 73 percent of the pot smokers in their sample said they turn on to enhance sexual enjoyment.

During a good sex-marijuana session, the whole body becomes an erogenous zone. This is sometimes described quite colorfully by adepts: “My whole body was a penis,” one will say, or, “She was allpussy, from head to toe.” Timo­thy Leary referred to the onset of this sort of consciousness as opening “the Rapture Circuit,” one of the seven cir­cuits he claims are built in when a human nervous system is born. (Most people use only four of these seven cir­cuits, Leary asserts, but yogis, shamans, schizophrenics and dopers may be using all seven.)

The mouth is often especially sensi­tized, and oral sex can be lingered upon to an unusual extent. This, again, may or may not be the result of autosugges­tion; it is strikingly similar to the delight in food experienced by many on non­sexual Cannabis jags-the well-known “marijuana munchies.” A 38-year-old radio announcer, quoted in The Sexual Power of Marijuana, put it this way: “A woman’s body becomes a cafeteria. You want to eat every part of it. No part is sacred, yet everything is sacred.”

The most interesting reactions occur, of course, in the genitals. A 22-year-old coed, quoted by the same book, says: “After smoking, there are times when I literally feel as if I’m a huge cunt.” Similarly, a 32-year-old pharmacist said: “I sometimes feel like a huge sexual or­gan, like I’m duplicating the thrust of the penis. And that the woman’s body has the proportions of one large vaginal tract. ”

This peculiar centering of conscious­ness within the genitals is the first stage in cosmic consciousness as practiced by the Tantric Hindus of northern India and the Tantric Buddhists of Tibet. The sexual rites of the Tantrists have traditionally used a Cannabis drug, charas, to achieve this felicity.

Of course, such a separate reality-as these states are called by anthropologist Carlos Castaneda – Is quickly catego­rized as hallucination or worse by older psychiatrists and the governments of the Western world. Younger social scien­tists – Drs. Leary, John Lilly, Humphrey Osmond, R. D. Laing and many others­ reply in rebuttal that these states are as valid as ordinary consciousness. Both consist of subjective and objective ele­ments mixed together. This, of course, opens the most accursed question in philosophy: What is real?

More serious is the establishment’s second warning that these unusual states of consciousness, hallucinatory or not, lead to physical damage. Again, there is quick rebuttal. The British Indian Hemp Drug Commission of the Nineties, the U. S. Army Canal Zone study of the Twenties, the LaGuardia Commission of the Forties, the Weil, Zinberg, Nelson study in Boston in the Sixties and a U. S. Food and Drug Administration study in Jamaica in 1971 all found no clear-cut physical damage from Cannabis drugs, even though the first, third and last of these investigations included a large num­ber of users who had been smoking Can­nabis for decades. The establishment, however, is always quick to come back with another study suggesting that some subtle damage might exist after all.

The psychedelics-hallucinogens bring these debates to greater emotional inten­sity than do the Cannabis drugs. The sexual side of the LSD revolution was stated bluntly by Leary in a 1966 Playboy Interview:

The sexual impact is, of course, the open but private secret about LSD which none of us has talked about in the last few years. . . .

Sexual ecstasy is the basic reason for the current LSD boom. When Dr. Goddard, the head of the Food and Drug Administration, an­nounced in a Senate hearing that ten percent of our college students are taking LSD, did you ever wonder why? Sure, they’re discovering God and meaning; sure, they’re discover­ing themselves; but did you really think that sex wasn’t the funda­mental reason for this surging, youthful social boom? You can no more do research on LSD and leave out sexual ecstasy than you can do microscopic research on tis­sue and leave out cells. . . .

Mature and responsible voices were prompt to announce that Leary was ex­aggerating wildly. Voices from the un­derground were just as prompt to assert that he was telling it like it is. Typical is this testimony of one interview subject, who described an identification-with-the-genitals experience much stronger than those recounted by Cannabis users: “I was fucking Sandra and the acid made all my consciousness go into the very top eighth inch of the head of my penis. That’s all I was – just that fragment of flesh entirely surrounded by cunt and pulsating with joy. Then-boom! – I wasn’t even that. I was nowhere, and yet I was everywhere.”

Alan Watts, the late exponent of Zen, on the other hand, testified that for him LSD was always an “above-the-belt experience. ”

The resolution of such contradic­tions – without accusing anybody of being a liar or a fool – may perhaps be found in Dr. Lilly’s concept that LSD is a “metaprogramming substance.” This nicely sidesteps the debate between those who regard acid favorably as a psyche­delic and those who regard it unfavora­bly as a hallucinogenic. According to Lilly, a metaprogramming substance acts upon the human biocomputer (brain) so as to make it easier to change pro­grams. Thus, if one wants to change philosophical or perceptual programs, LSD is an above-the-belt experience; but if one wants to change sexual pro­grams, it’s a below-the-belt experience.

A psychedelic that can be described as sui generis is MDA (Methylenedioxyam­phetamine), a blend of the psychedelic mescaline (normally found in the peyote cactus) and the stimulant amphetamine. Since both psychedelics and stimulants are found to be sexually exciting by many users, one would expect MDA to be a somewhat erotic potion, and in­deed some underground alchemists have claimed it is “the only true aphrodisiac known.” Again, we must remember that effect depends on dosage, plus set, plus setting; some find MDA a totally above-the-belt experience.

As is now the norm in drug lore, vast contradictions appear in the reports of those who have sampled black-market MDA on the streets. This is largely due to the fact that street drugs are often impure or mislabeled; much of what the MDA people think they have had has been cut with amphetamines, cocaine, atropine, etc., or is an LSD-ampheta­mine compound. Yage is a Peruvian vine even spookier than LSD – occult events are so often connected with it that it is also called telepathine-but there are no sexual claims for it in the literature.

In the last few years one drug, above all, has increasingly acquired a reputa­tion for sexual enhancement-cocaine. It is the strongest of the energizers and, in some circles, has long enjoyed the reputa­tion of being the most licentious drug in the world. Users talk more of a flash than a high, and their imagery tends to sound highly orgasmic, even when they are not combining it with sex.

Orgasmlike sensations are monoto­nously reported in cocaine literature round the world. The Peruvian Indians say of this chemical, with simple awe, “God is a substance.” The Mexican dealer in Easy Rider tells Peter Fonda, “jEsta es fa Vida!” (“It is the Life!”). William Eurroughs, whose career as multiple-drug abuser extended from the Thirties until 1957, says that cocaine is “the most exhilarating of all drugs.”

Old coke paranoias were extraordi­nary. Burroughs tells of a friend who suffered the presence of “Chinese cop­pers . . . with meat cleavers” and of another who literally thrust his head into a garbage can, like an ostrich, to hide from the demons pursuing him. More common were the legendary “coke bugs,” microscopic insects that were experi­enced just below the surface of the skin.

If the current revival of cocaine has not provided any yarns similar to such Twenties horrors, one explanation may be that most of the cocaine available these days is, like most of the heroin, cut by as much as 80 percent or more. In many cases, it is actually Novocain Gust as much of the “acid” for sale in the street is really mescaline). Then, again, because of the high prices, few can afford to sniff the crystals all night.

There is a tradition of saving the coke until the moment before orgasm and then sniffing it, so that the two flashes occur at once. To devotees, this is in­deed heaven on earth; but the purer the cocaine (i.e., the higher the ecstasy), the more likely is the sequel of depres­sions and paranoid anxieties.

Quite similar in its results is another stimulant, methamphetamine, or Methe­drine. Psychologist David Cole Gordon has written: “The users of Methedrine or ‘speed’ have reported unrivaled orgas­mic experiences – which is why, even though users are aware of its destruc­tive qualities, they take it again and again.” While the slogan “Speed kills” ­invented by the counterculture itself­ has some element of exaggeration, the paranoias and malnutrition of this form of drug abuse (which kills appetite to an astonishing extent) are considered by some (e.g., Dr. Fort) more damaging than heroin addiction.

The other stimulants, such as Ritalin, the Benzedrine compounds and uppers in general, are also found to be sexually stimulating by some users. Each contains its own possibilities for abuse. Some who like this “speedy” kind of nervous sex have therefore resorted to amyl nitrite, a compound sometimes used by doctors to revive persons who have fainted.

Poppers (the slang name for amyl ni­trite) seem to have few of the bad aftereffects of the stimulant drugs, although a user in poor physical or men­tal condition can go into shock. Also, they can be easily obtained without pre­scription in many places, and are hence something of a fad in showbiz and swinging circles. Some medical authori­ties, alas, warn that circulation of the blood is adversely affected by chronic use. And then, some who have tried once have never repeated it, saying that the rush is not pleasant at all but resembles being in a falling elevator.

Under our last category – Miscellaneous – there are such oddball kicks as nutmeg, or hanging your head over a bucket of ammonia (“the washwoman’s trip”). Nutmeg is frequently resorted to in prisons; the effect is like peyote, includ­ing vomiting and some dizziness. Am­monia, like carbon tet or airplane glue, is a solvent: The effects it has are hardly aphrodisiac.

Finally, there is methaqualone, also marketed as Quaalude, Sopor, Parest, Optimil and Somnafac, and known on the street as sopers. This has quite an erotic reputation in some circles, but, since the drug is basically a downer or sedative, eroticism can be obtained only with small doses; as with alcohol or bar­biturates, a larger dose depresses the en­tire system and leads to sleep – or, with a high-enough dose, to coma or death. Habituation occurs easily, and some in­vestigators already suspect the possibili­ty of physical addiction, although this is still disputed. (It’s safe, however, to say that the drug is extremely habit-forming.)

In summary, then, marijuana, am­phetamines, cocaine and the psyche­delics are probably quite effective aphrodisiacs for those who have learned how to use them. Marijuana has proba­bly become the most popular illegal drug – despite the very real war against it by Government officials.

Is grass, then, the wave of the future, as its cultists believe? In one limited sense, yes. It is still growing in populari­ty and will continue to make converts.

Another factor, meanwhile, is inevita­bly going to enter the picture. Drs. Wayne O. Evans and Nathan S. Kline, in their Psychotropic Drugs in the Year 2000, predict that a real, specific aphro­disiac will be available in this decade. Some who are familiar with the pace of discovery in psychochemistry will agree. Obviously, some new drugs will evoke the kind of panic that centered on LSD in the Sixties; that is, they will be de­clared illegal and immediately will appear (cut and diluted into monstros­ity) on the black market. There should be some memorable bad trips in the years ahead.

The Witches Are Coming

THE WITCHES ARE COMING
step right up, see the strange rites, revisit past lives, it’s all happening on the inside of the occult convention
reportage By ROBERT ANTON WILSON

from Gallery, January 1973

 

One day in the autumn of the year when the American people in their wisdom decided that they would buy a used car from Millhouse after all, I heard about a Gnostic Aquarian Festival – a conven­tion of magicians, wizards, warlocks; astrologers and witches, invoked by genial eclectic, Carl Weshke, pub­lisher of Llewellyn Books, to be held in Minneapolis on September 22-25. It was an intriguing prospect: if the coun­try as a whole could believe in Mill­house, then obviously I was (worst of all fates for a commercial writer) badly out of step with the times. This is the dawn­ing of the Age of Aquarius (as the shaman showmen tell us in Hair) and magic is afoot (as Buffy sings), so that if 60% of the people in the Harris poll believe Millhouse is ending the war in Indochina by expanding it from one nation to two and then three and now four, then there is nothing surprising about the recrudescense of astrology and we can expect phrenology and even alchemy to rise also from their his­torical graves. Science has been trying to drag us out of the Dark Ages for three hundred years, with no large success; and if the great masses of the people elect to slouch back toward that school of thought which cures carcinomas by the hair of the seventh son of a seventh son, isn’t it time to ask if they might be right?

Enough. Too much. The folks at Gallery paid my expenses, my wife and I flew to Minneapolis, we divided up the events (since the convention had a couple of lectures or demonstrations every hour and I couldn’t catch them all) and for four crowded days I rubbed el­bows with a group of unbelievable peo­ple. I ate dinner with a beautiful young lady who is in regular communication with her dead husband, got myself hyp­notized and regressed to a real or im­aginary previous incarnation in which I taught history at Harvard toward the end of the 19th Century, groaned through yoga exercises for 1 ½ hours every morning and rose strangely refreshed and invigorated, participated in three magic rituals, attended lectures on Cabalism and Tarot Cards and Sex Magic and Herbal Healing, had my handwriting analyzed by a graphologist and my future scrutinized by a Tarot reader and my aura peered at by a psychic, got precipitated into seemingly doing a small feat of ESP myself, and finally (see below) experienced some­thing so mind-blowing, so incredible, so unexpected that a month later I am still at a total loss for a scientific explana­tion. The experiment worked: I got out­side my usual rationalism and I’m not.sure if I can ever get back in again.

I think I fell out of the 20th Century. I’m not sure whether I landed in the 13th or the 21st.

The first rumor I heard was sug­gestive of the Middle Ages returning in Middle America: the man who reg­istered my wife and me for the conven­tion in the lobby of the Hyatt Lodge said that he’d heard the Jesus Freaks were coming over the next day to hurl a Male­diction on all of us. I wondered if they’d hurl stones as well.

The first witch I encountered was Lady Sheba, who is one of several dozen entrepreneurs who bills herself as “The Witch Queen of America.” Lady Sheba is a fiftyish woman with dignified carriage, iron-grey hair and eyes bright as new-minted pennies. She obviously only recognizes one Witch Queen and has short shift for those who would recognize another. She speaks pure Ozark American, and for a while I thought that the divinity she wor­shipped, The Har Par, was of Egyptian origin – only with repeated hearings did my New York ears finally assemble that into Ha’ar Pa’ar and, finally, Higher Power. The Har Par in any case is fe­male, and Lady Sheba also addresses her as Diana; she is a moon goddess and conspicuously less paranoid than Jehovah, Allah and the other male gods of recent vintage. Says Diana in a ritual which pleased my sense of style:

“And you shall be free, and as a sign that you be really so, be naked in your rites, dance, sing, feast, make music and love. All in my praise, for I am a gracious goddess, who gives joy upon earth; certainty, not faith, while in life; and upon death peace unutterable, rest and the ecstasy of the goddess. Nor do I demand aught in sacrifice, for behold, I am the mother of all living, and my love is poured out upon the earth.”

But no one, alas, was actually naked during the aquarian festival rites, a con­cession to the Hyatt Lodge, Mpls. Minn. which the deity would have to forgive. Lady Sheba, comported herself like a true Witch Queen, and this was espe­cially effective on the first night, when we all gathered in the outdoor patio and she led us in a Moon ritual – which was expected to be of special importance since the night was, actually, the first in 500 years to feature a full moon on the very date of the Autumn Equinox. If you’re hip to astrology at all, such an occasion must be a cosmic turning point, and by the first theorem of magic (“That which is above, is below”) an earthly turning point also, and the per­fect time for a rite of high magic art and Lady Sheba milked it. When, at one point, she whirled in a great circle, her index finger pointing at each of us in turn, a very perceptible vibe passed through the group; auto-suggestion, of course, of course, oh undoubtedly auto­suggestion, but it takes a particular kind of person to cast that degree of sugges­tion and most of us (the allegedly reverend clergy, in particular) are sadly lacking in the personal confidence of being linked with the Har Par, the confi­dence that enables one to point a finger and get that immediate result.

Still: nothing (except the vibe) per­ceptibly happened: nobody turned into a cat or started rolling around Speaking in Tongues or burst into laughter or tears such as happens in Subud groups at similar moments – frankly, I expected more of the Witch Queen of America. But it was, after all, a public per­formance and supposed to be decorous.

I soon had my mind really blown though, by somebody who was neither a witch nor a magician but a Ph.D. in physics of all things. I was educated at a technical high school and a polytechnic college and worked five years as an en­gineering aide before becoming a writer and it takes a physicist to really lay one upside my head: he told me about a recent experiment involving some cockroaches whose vibes com­pare quite favorably with Lady Sheba’s, and I didn’t believe it. I looked it up, and it seems to be true, but I’m still not sure I believe it.

Grok: Dr. _______ of ______ University recently set up an apparatus in which the totally random decay of a lump of carbon was converted by a computer into an equally random series of numbers which in turn triggered elec­trical shocks on a grid marked out in squares. The cockroaches were then placed on the grid, and – by all the laws of physics and logic, by the mathemati­cal statistics of probability theory, by the iron certainties of the most rigorous of sciences – the squares occupied by the roaches should have received, as an average over the time of the experiment, just as many shocks as the un­occupied squares.

But they didn’t.

It seems the roaches were sending out vibes that interferred with the physi­cal process somewhere – the radio­active decay of the atoms of carbon? the circuits of the computer? It is a headache for orthodox science either way, and leads inevitably to various unorthodox conjectures. The physicist who told me about this asked me not to print his name since he doesn’t want his learned colleagues to know he hobnobs with witches and sorcerers on his vaca­tions.

But my heresiarch of physicists had another shocker for me: some years ago, in the country of his birth, he had experimentally and whimsically put Roman Catholic belief to the test, trying to make rain by prayer. Speaking over the radio, and carefully hiding his skepticism, he asked the natives, who were suffering a terrible drought, to join him in prayer to the local saint, asking for rain. The downpour was im­mediate-and that was when he decided metaphysics was as interesting as physics.

He made it abundantly clear that he didn’t believe in any Catholic heaven hovering above the clouds with all the saints telepathically tuned in to the prayers coming up from earth and tak­ing action when a whole town prayed at once-but if that hadn’t happened, what actual physical process had suddenly started converting air molecules to H2O molecules?

I am a chess player as well as a former engineering student. Lenin, that Gothic pragmatist, urged all com­munists to play chess on the grounds that it taught the two chief lessons a re­volutionary should know: that wishful thinking is usually impotent and that reason is a man’s best ally in any struggle. Good: knight takes bishop. And I have read rationalistic historians and know all about the two most cele­brated failures of supernaturalism in history: when Constantinople fell in 1452, the pious Christians were all in church praying to the Virgin for a miracle, but the Turks came in and massacred them anyway; and the famous Lisbon earthquake (that made a skeptic of Voltaire in the 18th Century) also came on a day when all the faithful Lisbonese were in church praying. Good, good: pawn to rook seven. The 6,000,000 Jews gassed by Hitler prob­ably sent up a fairly vehement stream of prayer of Jehovah, also, but that didn’t slow down the events for a day, an hour or a minute. Still better, and worse: pawn to rook eight. For that mat­ter, how did Hitler survive so long-among the nearly 90 million killed in the war he started, and their families, there must have been a Mount Everest-size bundle of bad vibes sent in Adolph’s direction, but he was not af­flicted by the polio, cancer, or similar Acts of God which regularly light upon innocent men, women and children. Checkmate. The faithful will now leave the arena of reason, defeated as usual.

And yet those damned cockroaches staved off the electrical shocks which, according to hard mathematics, should have singed their antennae. In absolute terms, one case like that counterbal­ances a hundred million-odd dead humans for even one such case should not exist (the laws of science are abso­lute, or they are not laws) and these roaches are, metaphorically speaking termites-the fissure in the foundation of materialism which they have made is enough to collapse the entire edifice.

I found myself remembering the dis­turbing case of J.B.S. Haldane, the most brilliant mathematical biologist of the century, who had a mind so wedded to materialism that he became a com­munist and even the leading intellectual spokesman for Marxism in England: but after experimenting with some of Great Beast Aleister Crowley’s rituals, Haldane blew a fuse, packed his bags and departed for India to study with the real pros of the occult world. Among his last published works you will find the bemused remark, “The universe may be, not only queerer than we think, but queerer than we can think.” What had he seen or experienced? I don’t know, but once I tried peyote, the sacred cac­tus of American Indian magic, and found myself not in another universe precisely but in this universe still and yet confronting the strange fact that all objects were the same size. This was puzzling, no doubt about it, and the work “hallucination” would not fit com­fortably over the experience – espe­cially when I recalled that this theorem appears twice in modern mathematics, in Cantor’s study of the infinity and in Buckminster Fuller’s mind-boggling essay “Omnidirectional Halo,” which suggests that shapes are real but sizes are human mis-perceptions. It left me with the confusing feeling that I almost understood such occultists as Paracelsus, who said,”Man is not the body, but the mind, and mind is an en­tire star.”

But who had time to mull such things, when there were two or three more mind-blowing events every hour there in Mpls Minn, and I was already rushing to hear the personage who billed himself as Eli, Grand Master of Druidic Witch­craft. He looked like all the most love­able old character actors in Hollywood rolled into one, had eyes that (may the Author’s Guild forgive me) actually twinkled, sported a snowy white beard and even had the little round belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly; to italicize his charisma, he dressed entirely in black (if you asked him about that, he would explain that he was in mourning “until people stop hurt­ing one another:” no vote for Millhouse here). His ostensible subject was herbal healing but he spoke in this first lecture mostly about things you might learn in any good medical school if the faculty were really hip to modern psychoso­matic medicine – “and now,” he said at the end, “now that we have some per­spective, I’ll talk about herbal healing in my next lecture tomorrow.”

Eli was a former engineer himself and had discovered his own Har Par late in life. He clearly knew that herbs were only part of it, and he told us “The most important healing implement you have, whether you’re an M.D., a chiropractor, or a witch, is your own personality and the way you present yourself.” He gave us another dose of his twinkle. “Most people,” Eli added, “die of adrenalin poisoning. Their own fear and worry kills them, and stopping that is the biggest part of any cure. The body can throw off most diseases by itself when it’s not full of adrenalin.”

Not so impressive to the former engineering student was Russ Michaels who represented something known as The Great White Brotherhood and lec­tured about the first humans who lived on the Lost Continent of Lemuria fifteen million years ago. The engineering student couldn’t swallow a whole lost continent in one gulp, especially one unknown to the profane researchers in archeology, geology, paleontology and anthropology. But then Michaels, with that irritating quality real people have of never quite fitting into neat slots in a writer’s program, began talking about consciousness expansion, and having walked some distance up that road with the aid of peyote, I was properly humiliated to learn, past all consoling doubt, that He had journeyed much fur­ther and seen more – let us forgive him his Lemurians, then, the man knows something of the geology of mind if not of earth.

But if we pass those Lemurians, with however many tons of salt, where were the charlatans? I asked my wife that question at lunch, in a somewhat aggreived tone: after all, if I couldn’t find one real dingaling to portray, my article would have all the nauseating sweet­ness-and-light of a True Believer. “The occult is full of fools and frauds,” I mut­tered. “Why haven’t I found them here yet?”

“Try the astrologers,” she suggested helpfully.

Ah, yes, the astrologers; God bless them, the astrologers – ideal punchinel­los for any satirist’s ironies. I even met one, before the convention was a day older, who supported George Wallace – here certainly was Mind At The End Of Its Tether. But by then too many other things were happening to allow me to bask in any sense of superiority over people who ask whether Mars is in the third house or Jupiter in the out house before making a decision. For one thing, Jack and Mary Rowan arrived and began conducting experiments in hypnotism which, to my consternation, led directly into the total abolition of my role as observer. I got in­volved.

The first experiment in which I par­ticipated involved the attempt to trigger ESP (extra-sensory perception) by hyp­nosis – which Soviet scientists have been doing very successfully for several years now. Jack Rowan, who looks like a Bronx dentist who plays the horses on the side and not at all like Svengali or Cagliostro, put several of us into a light trance with just a few minutes of the usual drone (“Your legs are heavy, heavy, your arms are heavy, your eyes are heavy, heavy.. .”) and there was only one jolt, when he said “Now your eyes are sealed until I open them, you cannot open them, if you try to open them you won’t be able to, they are sealed” and, gulp, it was true and I was in his power and, just like peyote, the best thing is to go with it, so I relaxed and waited. People in the audience dropped things into the palms of those of us who were “under” and I got a key, a largish key, definitely not a car key, some kind of door key. “Now,” Jack said, “just relax and let images come into your mind,” and, hey presto, I saw a kitchen, a table with a checkered cloth, a calendar on the wall – and then, confusingly, an automobile. “But it’s not a car key,” I thought, and then remem­bered that I was trying to get outside the conscious, rational part of the mind, so I banished the thought, waited – and the car came back again. “???” I thought, and then nothing came for a while until the kitchen started to form again. About then, Jack woke us up (“Five, you’re coming out of it, four, three, you’re almost awake, two, now it’s happening, one, YOU’RE AWAKE!”) The woman who had placed the key in my hand asked me what I had received, and, a bit embarrassed, I said, “Not much,” and described my images, leaving out the car which I still didn’t believe.

“That’s my kitchen, all right,” she said. “This is the back-door key and if you walked in, you’d see the table cloth and the calendar. The table-cloth is cubes, not checks, but I guess it looks kind of like checks.”

Emboldened, I asked, “Is there a car connected with this key in any way?”

She gave me a nervous look. “Yes,” she said. She then told me about a quarrel concerning a car which had occurred in that kitchen, in the course of which the key was slammed onto the table very angrily.

Skeptics who care to explain this away can write to me care of GALLERY; the only contribution I can make is that she wanted me to become a believer and deliberately lied, inventing a kitchen and a story about a car to fit my images. This would also explain the physicist who prayed for rain and got it; that never happened either. Those who can get rid of inconvenient data by asserting that the witnesses are liars, of course, need not ever think a new thought; but I was ready to dive deeper. I arranged to be “regressed” – that is, to enter another trance, and try to find my way back to a previous incarnation. This, I was convinced, was absolute rubbish; whereas I have been half-inclined to believe in ESP for several years now, the idea of an immortal soul climbing in and out of bodies like you or I changing clothes seems to me to belong strictly in Universal Studios where Karloff and Lugosi can flash their evil grins over it forever. Ergo, I was eager to put my skepticism to a test.

But first I got a chance to watch several regressions from the outside. First was a young lady of 23 who was re­gressed to age five and spoke just like a five-year-old for a few minutes; Jack Rowan regressed her further, past birth, and then she answered in a new voice. The next moments were worth the whole trip to Mpls Minn; the whole audience breathed silently, leaned forward and made no more noise than a hunter creeping up on a deer:

“How old are you?” Jack asked.

“Twelve.”

“You sound unhappy. Why?”

“Reverend Holtz tells me I’m a bad girl and God is very angry with me.”

The voice was 12-years-old, no doubt, and the accent was distinctly different. A few more questions revealed that the little girl we were talking to lived in an orphanage in the Dakota Territory around 1850, and my flesh was as they say creeping because the little girl voice and personality were quite as real and convincing as the adult woman they were proceeding from – and even assuming, as I did, that this was an un­conscious fantasy being acted out, one was still awe-struck and I scribbled in my notebook Mind more marvelous than we ever realize, but now the little girl was growing up, her voice changed, her personality became tougher, more cyni­cal; she answered questions, repeated­ly, with “What do you care?” or “what business is it of yours?” Mary Rowan, a plump woman who reminded me of Mary Worth in the comics, took over for Jack and tried to develop a friendlier contact.

“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked.

“What’s in it for you?” came the an­swer. The little girl from the orphanage had become quite a hard-bitten young lady. It soon developed that she was still in the Dakota Territory, and changed her name from Laura to Lola, and was singing in a saloon to make a living.

“I think it’s time for you to sing,” Mary Rowan prompted, all sweetness and maternalism – Christ, we all would have been burned at the stake if they caught us at this a few centuries ago – “yes, I can hear the music…” and, several people jumped when it started, a pro­fessional show biz singing voice, vin­tage 19th Century, wailed out, hitting the four corners of the ceiling just like voice teachers tell their pupils to aim for, “CAL-ico girl/you are my/CAL-ico girl. . .”

I exhaled like a whale. I hadn’t realized that I was holding my breath. Explain it as you will: reincarnation, a kind of telepathy across time in which she was picking up the sensations and behaviors of another woman who had lived a century ago, just plain Freudian unconscious monkey-tricks, the actual performance I witnessed challenges the bedrock of our civilization, the very defi­nition of ego. I remembered how psy­chologist William McDougal said of the famous Christine/Sally Beauchamp of Boston, the girl with nine personalities, that each of her selves seemed to be separate psychic entities rather than as­pects of one personality. The ego is un­real, Buddha said; I was ready to be­lieve him. The bar-room entertainer was quite as real, palpable, tangible, three-dimensional and there in the room with us as the rather quiet young lady who had sat down to be hypnotized a few minutes earlier. But more:

The next case up, another youngish woman, was regressed into a man (why not?) who had lived in India in the 16th Century. He had several wives, it developed, worked for the government, and had quite a definite and distinctive personality. Then, at a request, he went to the blackboard and began writing in a dialect of Hindustani. We were assured that this particular regression, which had been accomplished several times, has been extensively investi­gated – the memories resurrected fit ac­tual social conditions in India at that time, and the language (which the sub­ject, of course, has never studied) was real Hindustani.Telepathy at least, if not reincarnation? I scribbled.

The third case, Gott dank, was comic relief, at least for the engineering student: a rather pleasant young fellow re­gressed to an incarnation in which he was a cave man, and you haven’t heard such grunts or seen such grimaces since the original Griffith-Wallis produc­tion of One Million B. C. There was no need for reincarnation or even telepathy to explain this performance: too many nights with the Late Late Show would account for all of it – but while I congrat­ulated myself on not being deceived, another corner of my mind was still grappling with the dance-hall girl and the Hindu dialect.

Next day it was my turn to be re­gressed.

I went under quickly and easily, just like the first time, and even had a mo­ment to reflect that there seems to be more space in the hypnoidal world than in ordinary consciousness, it was rather like 2001really, and then Jack Rowan was ordering me back, back, back, past birth, and “Look down,” he said, “and see what you’re wearing.” I seemed to be in men’s clothing of approximately the Victorian age. “You’re outside your house,” he went on, “Look at it. What sort of house is it?” It was New England, rambling, decorated with gables. “Think, now: where are you?” The an­swer was immediate: Cambridge, Massachusetts. “What do you do for a living?” I looked out over a classroom of attentive 19th Century young men: I was evidently their teacher.

After a few more “memories” or in­ventions about that hypothetical life, Jack suddenly moved me up to the mo­ment of death. “Now, don’t come back to this life yet. You’ve just died. Where are you?” I looked around – and, hold onto your hats all you skeptics and be­lievers both, I seemed to be in some sort of fun-house or amusement park!

Which was all very interesting and in­conclusive, and my wife did even better, “remembering” two previous lives when she was regressed, one also in New England, one in medieval France, but when we talked it over later – and both of us sat drinking coffee staring into space for ten or twenty minutes be­fore we could begin to talk – it seemed that neither of us found anything that ab­solutely proved reincarnation, but we very distinctly experienced the unreality of the ego that all mystics talk about, the clear and irrefutible sense that the per­sons we thought we were had been manufactured out of some shotgun wed­ding of history and imagination, the real self being distinctly different and larger, as if we were giants who could only squeeze so much of ourselves into this midget world and had somehow con­trived to forget that the rest of us was still outside and very much alive.

But next was my Tarot reading, and a comfortable return to the role of skep­tical outsider. The reader, a black-bearded young magician named Bruce Larue who was later to impress me fa­vorably by a white-robed dramatic per­formance of a magic rite in a nearby park, began by telling me that I would not move from my present home for three years. Since I was in the process of moving already, this provided a grati­fying sense that everybody at the con­vention was not a light year ahead of me in spiritual development, and he went on to drop several more bricks, warm­ing the cockles of my skeptical heart.

But then I was rushing to a combina­tion handwriting analysis and psychic reading by Alexandria Russell and her husband, Joseph East. Alexandria, who has the personal pizzazz and something of the heft of Sophie Tucker, is the graphologist, and Joe, who is quiet and withdrawn behind a surface of immacu­lately tasteful clothing, is the psychic. Skepticism, striving valiantly for a come-back, received karate blows here: in ten minutes, staring at my hand­writing sample like a jeweler scrutiniz­ing the biggest diamond ever, Alexan­dria rapped off statements about my personal and professional life which were at least 98 per cent accurate. While I was still reeling, she told me that I had once suffered from anoxia, due to some form of smoke poisoning: bulls­eye! A furnace had backed up and al­most killed me at the age of twelve. She then told me about a problem with my right leg, left over from a bout of polio at age 2 ½: another bullseye, right through the shaft of the last arrow. At this point, Joe, who had been staring not so much at me asthrough me, spoke up quietly.

“I think you’re about to have a book published,” he said.

He was right. Could he, knowing a writer was seeking a reading, have con­sulted every publisher’s list in the coun­try to find a forthcoming book signed Robert Anton Wilson? Do you think so, O ye skeptics? I don’t – chiefly because the book is not signed Robert Anton Wilson.

He then proceeded, in his quiet way, to tell me, in detail, about my troubles with various editors – all of which, he said, derive from my habit of writing the way I want and not the way they want. It was unnerving; I had had similar exper­iences in psychotherapy twelve years ago, but then the therapist had several hundred hours of listening to me and watching me; Joe East was doing this cold, looking at nothing but my alleged “aura,” and if you don’t believe in auras (I’m not sure I do) then he was reading my body movements much quicker and more accurately than any kinetics ex­pert can.

It went on for an hour, and neither Alexandria nor Joe made a single gross mistake, virtually everything they said was approximately true, and a large part of it was exactly true.

I went up to my hotel-room, stretched out on the bed, and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell had become of the engineering student. A simple hy­pothesis to account for what I had been seeing and experiencing would go something like this: we are, indeed, spiritual beings, and we inhabit spaces and times that transcend the spaces and times where the physical body finds itself; I am here, in the Hyatt Lodge in Mpls Minn. September 23, 1972 but I am also teaching at Harvard in the 1890s; perhaps there is no part of the universe that is not me; there is no in­stant in eternity at which I am not pres­ent. But I couldn’t really believe that, and with time and skeptical intelligence I would surely find a stingier, less ex­travagant explanation of these seeming auras and fields and spirits that crossed time and space and yet were myself and the other people here at the convention. It was just that the mind was more mar­velous – more creative – than we nor­mally realize. And in the next two days, attending lectures on the Cabalistic Tree – of Life and astral projection and the history of witchcraft and movies on parapsychology and Stonehenge, I repeated: it is mind, mind more marve­lous than I ever knew, but only mind. Only psychology.

But the most amazing experience of all was yet to come. There was a man at the convention, a Hindu who wants no publicity thank you, and he offered to teach a small class in a variety of yoga more advanced than the exercises I had been groaning through every morning. It was one more experiment for me: why not?

“You must understand,” he told us in advance, “that this is dangerous. No­body has ever written it in a book, be­cause it has to be transmitted from per­son to person. A mistake can lead to a heart attack, and I am not exaggerating when I say that. One more thing: if you are not truly pure and sincere in your aspiration, this can drive you mad. It is more powerful than the LSD that every­body worries about.”

There was more of that – much more – and several people dropped out of the class; but I have long had a theory that certain kinds of psychological (or occult) experience require that you be frightened in advance-adrenalin is a very psychedelic chemical, and you produce it in horse doctor’s doses when you’re scared – so I always assume, when teachers of mysticism go into such a rap, that they are just charging up the adrenalin glands of their pupils. If I didn’t believe that, I would have dropped out also, since I don’t particu­larly regard myself as pure or sincere. I stayed – and the instructions were so simple that I could put them into one sentence of about thirty words, except that I know better now and will not do any such thing.

We practiced for a half hour and nothing happened.

“Hah,” I thought, “more food for the skeptic.”

The teacher then suggested that we practice again that evening.

Sure, I thought, give him enough rope before hanging him from a neat verbal noose when I write my article.

That evening I practiced for about for­ty minutes, and collapsed in exhaustion, nothing accomplished. I have gotten more out of ordinary Hatha Yoga, I thought skeptically as I dozed. Five min­utes later, I was wide awake and it was happening. It went on for at least ten minutes, possibly fifteen, and there was absolutely no doubt about it, no way of explaining it as auto-suggestion or self-hypnosis or any such bromide – as well tell the adolescent boy having inter­course for the first time that he is just imagining that something entirely new is happening to him. He knows that something different and better than his fantasies of sex is going on, something that may have a mental component but is certainly much more than merely mental; he knows that he has entered a new dimension of life which had been imaginary before but is now quite defi­nitely real. At the end of it I was laugh­ing so loud that my wife feared I would wake the hotel.

It took about half an hour to get all the way back to ground level again, and then I could only mutter “Son of a bitch,” and “My God” and “Oh, wow” and similar profundities. “If the govern­ment ever finds out about this,” I said finally, “it’ll be twice as illegal as LSD.”

The next day I spoke with un­accustomed humility for me, to my guru (what else could I consider him now?) “You have only taken the first step.” he said. “There are nine further steps, and if you persist, you will come to a point of facing temptations that you have never imagined. If a man makes you angry, for instance, you will be able to direct you emotion like a weapon and strike him dead. Think long and hard about whether you want the responsibility of such powers, and if you can accept them without being destroyed morally. Then write to me.” At this point, I dared not completely disbelieve such extrava­gant claims: the cockroaches causing atomic radiation to change at their whim now seemed picayune indeed: and, four weeks later, I have not written to him yet, unable to decide how far I care to pursue this.

Driving out to the airport, the cabbie asked my wife and me, “Were you at that witches convention?”

I granted that we were.

“What was it like?”

I thought long and hard. “It was like in­teresting, man,” I said.

Divorce American Style

“Divorce American Style”
the screwing you get for the screwing you got
by Simon Moon

from Gallery
November 1972 (first issue)

It is 2001 and (while the black monolith plays its eerie games in outer space) a young man and woman approach the Marriage-Divorce windows at their town hall, “We want to record a marriage, ” he says. The clerk matter-of-factly whips out Form 101-23. “Date of commencement of marriage?” he asks, pencil poised. . . “Uh, last I night, ” the young man says . . . The young woman blushes prettily. . . The clerk is unmoved, “Personal decision or religious ceremony?” he asks. . . “Personal decision.”. . . “How long do you plan to continue the marriage until termination?” . . . “Six months”. . . The clerk puts down his pencil patiently, “That’s impossible, ” he says. “The tax office won’t recognize any marriage of less than one fiscal year duration. If you want a legal marriage, you’ve got to obey the legal rules. Now, shall I tear this form up, or do you want a one-year contract?” The lovers exchange glances. . . “Make it two years, what the hell, “says the man, and the lady blushes again, happily. . . “Two years, ” the clerk mutters, stamping the form. “You must really be in love. . . Five dollars registration fee, please.” The marriage is official, for tax and business purposes – and why else, a citizen of2001 would ask, should the State be involved in citizens’ private sexual arrangements? “We want to terminate a marriage,” says the next couple.Strangely, neither of them have that angry, hurt look of people seeking divorce in our day- claim for adoption in Nashville can be done with the help of attorneys from Nashville. Why should they? This is a simple legal transaction of telling the State what they have done: the State has no authority to tell them they must do otherwise. “Is this your original termination date?” the clerk asks. “It’ll cost an extra dollar to opt out early, because then I have to hunt up the original form and note the change.

Does this sound fantastic? It seems more incredible to assert that our present divorce laws can last, without dramatic change, for another thirty years which is predicted by the lawyers for child custody claims. It is equally plausible, sociologically, that the real changes will be more radical than I have suggested in this prophecy, for social changes are always more rapid and thor­ough than anyone predicts in advance. (How much of the world of 1973 did anyone foresee in 1943? – Women’s Lib? Gay Lib? Moon shots? Legal abortion? four letter words in movies??!) It’s sure to come!

Our obsolete and idiotic divorce laws must be changed. They are irrational, chaotic, authoritarian, undemocratic, and violate the principle of the separation of church and state. They encourage both dishonesty and vindictiveness.

Present divorce laws derive from a pre­dominately rural and Christian past which has little relevance to either the values or the technology of the present day American scene. Marriage was considered a sacred life-long contract which only some appalling lapse of conduct on the part of one of the persons could abrogate. This approach is increasingly absurd in a country where, in fact, most marriages now do end in divorce.

Most states perpetuate the fallacy of the old adversary system, meaning that in any divorce action there must always be a guilty party. Mutual consent is not grounds for dissolving a marriage; one party’s “guilt” must be proved before a di­vorce can be granted. Couples that other­wise might resolve things quite rationally and amicably are often led into bitter and costly struggles. Too often the husband who gallantly lets the wife appear to be the injured party is shafted with vicious and punitive alimony.

Virtually everyone knows at least one divorced man who has been economically crippled for life, a walking horror story of such vindictive judicial proceedings.

Granted, women have some legitimate gripes about a system which discriminates against them and makes it practically im­possible for them to support themselves and their children at a decent standard; on the other hand, it is inhumane and un­realistic to expect unfortunate divorced husbands to continue to be victimized and pick up the tab for society’s inequities. An increasing number of men are finding the present state of affairs intolerable.

The real cause of the divorce doesn’t matter. The wife can be frigid, promiscu­ous, lazy, selfish, thieving or a cross be­tween Gravel Gertie and Ti-Grace Atkin­son, the divorce laws will produce the same result. When the marriage ends the husband will be the villain and the wife will be perpetually comforted and com­pensated out of his bank account, espe­cially if she has attained the sanctity of motherhood.

For she will almost inevitably get custody of the children and it is very easy obtaining custody with a lawyer these days. It doesn’t matter if the children prefer the father, or if she regards them with chronic fury, disgust or icy malevolence; it doesn’t matter if she spreads for the milkman, the postman, the grocery boy and the dyke down the street. She gets the kids, and with them, a sub­sidy. There are a couple of exceptions to this. Judges will sometimes give the chil­dren to the father if the mother is a certi­fied junkie with a heroin habit or if she is demonstrably so insane that she thinks Jews come from Mars or blows her nose in her soup. Otherwise, she has it made.

The current divorce picture is some­times needlessly cruel to children. Since the law sets up an adversary proceeding in which the parents are forced to fight or to pretend to fight, the children become part of the spoils of war. When a custody battle does develop, the children’s emotions are inevitably twisted and turned like silly putty and if they are never quite normal afterwards, nobody (except the moralists who wrote the law) should be surprised.

The differing divorce laws from state to state are a nightmare of chaos and irra­tionality. You can get a divorce if your wife commits adultery in Alabama, Alaska and most other states, but not in Florida or Michigan. Illinois alone has been thoughtful enough to offer a dissolution of the marriage should your wife happen to put poison in your orange juice. In most states if the woman copulates with her pet poodle there’s not a thing you can do about it, but North Carolina will staunch­ly protect your dignity by granting you a divorce in this event. In Louisiana you can divorce your wife if she decides to move away from you and live somewhere else; not however, if she is merely insane, sadistic, or an addict. If your bride gives you the clap on your wedding night its only grounds for divorce in Hawaii, Illinois and Kentucky. Kentucky, by the way, allows you a divorce with no actual proof of adultery if the woman is “lewd” or “lascivious”. (Who would want to marry a woman who wasn’t?)

These laws are authoritarian and undemocratic. Behind them is the unstated as­sumption that people’s rights are always to be defined for them by their “betters.” Thus, the rights of the child are defined by the tolerance of the parents-and, within this framework, the rights of the worker by the whims of the employer; the rights of a student, by the teacher; the rights of a teacher, by a Board of Education; and. so on, each person acting by grace of those above him on a pyramid of power. At the top of the pyramid-see the back of your dollar bill-is the Eye of God; or, if God can’t be found, a king who will act as God’s agent. When the king is not an indi­vidual but a coalition, monarchy is decen­tralized and we have the shell (although not the substance) of democracy. This is the whole theory behind statute law.

But there is another kind of law, equally ancient and traditional, but having a lib­ertarian instead of authoritarian basis. This is common law, or the law of the peo­ple. Instead of a pyramid of power, this system posits a wheel in which all are on the same plane and equally distant from the center, which is not a Godly power above them, but a consensus they have reached through ages of compromise between their separate interests. Thus, statue law is imposed downward by superiors on inferiors, but common law is agreed upon horizontally among equals.

Obviously, common law is the only kind of law compatible with grass-roots democ­racy or libertarianism. It is rather shock­ing to contemplate the extent to which we are still governed by aristocratic statute law. (This may well be, as heretical Constitutional lawyers like Lysander Spooner have insisted, the chief cause of the failure of democratic ideals and our evolution into a class society similar to Europe.) Especially noteworthy is the authoritar­ian downward-from-God-to-us-via-the-Master-Class structure in our divorce laws. None of them show any sign of the give-and-take of people acting as equals to iron out their differences; all came down from above. The idea of the divorce laws, in short, is that your “betters” – who kindly wrote these laws for you – know better than you do how and when you should mate and how and when you should part.

Fortunately, the times – as Bob Dylan noted – they are a-changin’. The first no-fault divorce law was enacted by Cali­fornia in January 1971, after five years of debate and investigation by special com­mittees. Since then Iowa and Colorado have followed suit, and other states are considering similar legislation.

The “no-fault” divorce is just what the name suggests. Neither party sues the other and alleges misconduct. They merely act in concert to get out of a situation which they both find intolerable. The role of the court is not to fix blame but to act as advisor to both in setting up a prop­erty division which is fair to each (and to any children they may have.) In general, everything is structured to lessen the hurt and the hatred of the couple, and nothing is devised to inflame these negative emo­tions further. Under this new law, one case has already occurred in which the woman was ordered to pay alimony to the man.

Herbert Glieberman, an attorney who has observed the California divorce scene closely under this new law, says that it definitely decreases unpleasantness and bitter feelings on both sides. One Los Angeles psychiatrist has even suggested that, as divorce proceedings become more rational, we will have to invent a new reli­gious or quasi-religious ritual to convince the divorced that they really are released from the marriage and that nobody blames them. This is not so far-fetched; one lawyer describes a client, after a brief and unemotional hearing, blurting out, “How do I know I’m really divorced?” He had all the legal documents he needed; obviously, what he wanted, psychologi­cally, was some form of ritualized purgation.

Already alternative forms of mat­ing-the commune, the crash pad, the trio, the unwed couple are multiplying, and even LIFE magazine does not ridicule these experiments any longer but treats them with respect. Some people will always want to pair off into couples, for longer or shorter periods (some, yes, even for life), and they may have to register this arrangement with the state tax and welfare people. But, as my opening fan­tasy suggests, not much else of marriage, or of our traditional divorce laws, can or should survive into the 21st Century.