Profane Exegesis: Friendly Neighborhood Fascism Inc

8/14/2019 Profane Exegesis: Friendly Neighborhood Fascism Inc.

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Profane Exegesis: Friendly Neighborhood Fascists Inc. Gang Stalking

So Ill work and Ill push the paintings and paint some more and write

more and edit this. And what with reading and email and the net and TV,thats enough for anyone. That and some women friends and a sex-wife.

Just kidding. And exercising.

.Just kidding. No, while tidying I came across an old Sunday

Review mag from 99, from The Independent on Sunday. The main article,

along with the great photo on the cover, was on Bruce Lee. A piece from

the biography by Davis Miller. I kept it aside and pulled it out as soon as I

noticed Enter The Dragon was showing on ITV 4. Okay, Im getting bored.I dont want to summarize it. Its very good, but I had other things on my

mind. What was interesting was how much Lee inspired him, and others of

course. Feeling restive again. And he describes Lees physical limitations

compared to other fighters, though he had good long arms. He was pretty

short-sighted apparently; just like me. Im 5 10 so I assume he was

slightly shorter than me. I say that not because I think Im a giant of a man

towering over the likes of The Little Dragon, but that Im sure I read years

back he was anything from 5 7 to 5 9. But thats not important right now.

So yeah, Lee inspired him to work on his body and he transforms himselffrom the proverbial 90lb weakling to a rippling wall of steely flesh and goes

on to pick up some prizes in kickboxing bouts. I think for most of my life

my mind has drifted back to the thought of getting myself in lustrous shape,

not just for my vanity and the thought of the ladies over the years, but to

take up martial arts again and be good at it; a peripheral ambition as I used

to think on it. Of how good it would be to reach the grade of 3rd Degree

black belt say, or better still, 5th. :Preferably in Karate, though it would be

great to also be a skilled Judo and Aikido practitioner, knowing all those

holds and locks. And after hours of watching the UFC championships on

Bravo on cable, one sees that these are as important as stand up skills. So

of course, over the past few months, or is it years, Ive been a bit peeved, a

bit miffed with the odd incidents, the inexplicable hostile episodes that

come seemingly out of the blue. You never know when some shithead is

going to block your path or walk right in front of you by which I mean

divert suddenly from their path to be right in front of me. This when going

along by The High School on the way to town or the library or whatever. I

moved. I was by the railings on the road side. One assumes the bloke had areason. A well dressed chap as I vaguely recall. I assumed he had his

reasons; that he was in hurry to get across the road, say. But I turned and


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looked as I will, and I couldnt see any reason for urgency; no indication he

was trying to beat the lights. It seemed completely gratuitous. Theres a lot

of it about in Edinburgh and has been for years. Ive surely mentioned it.

Yer locals are very territorial. They like their space, yours included

sometimes. My natural impulse is to give way. I prefer to be amicable

unless it's unavoidable. Not to be. Those almost imperceptibly subtlesignals and messages and cues we pick up on as another person approaches

us in the distance. And theyre weighing you up, literally, like the Predator

of the movie; asking themselves Can I take him? or if push comes to

shove can I get him into trouble with the cops in that as Im the probably

the most respectable theyre far more likely to take my side? Oh yes, Ive

come to realize this is how some of these bozos, these torags think. They

have it all figured out. Male and female alike. Inside and out. Worse, they

may already have affiliations with the police and the community and all therest of it, and any collisions, potential and actual are not accidental.

This came home to me quite recently in a charity shop as I mentioned

when some fucked up middle-aged bint slammed into me while my back

was turned. Not that I was stuck for an answer. You trying to tell me

something? would have sufficed. But at the forefront of my mind was the

awareness it was no accident. It was blatantly intentional. It was intended

to impact emotionally, psychologically and provoke a response; which isvery likely why she wasnt alone. Her buddy in hatred would be the

witness to anything that might develop, complete with choice distortion and

obfuscation as necessary. What lovely people. Morningside brownshirts

and jewbaiters. Happy days are here again. Theres a lot of it about.

Another time, Im in the charity shop across the street. There was a

biography of Henry Rollins Turned On by James Parker, along with

another paperback by Rollins himself, Black Coffee Blues (An intelligent

and perceptive man Guardian). I was only going to get the book by our

'Enry, but asked to see the biog. In the meantime Id been looking at one ofthose children's style books with the thick cardboard pages, only it was

South Park. Id enjoy putting it up on my bedroom window to piss off the

straights, meaning the brownshirts and brown-nosers across the street. The

horror. In The Meantime (Helmet), I decide Ill get both the Rollins books,

only Id put the South Park on the counter as the assistant, an older bloke,

was serving someone. Having decided on the Rollins, I put the Cartman

and Co back on the shelf and waited behind the guy bloke being served.

In the meantime... deja vu... this other bloke sidles in from the side. He

seems to be deeply interested in something or other on the wall behind the

counter. This dipstick is using it as a pretext to stand by the counter to


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make out hes there before me. Clearly obvious to the assistant too. But

what if he serves him? The assistant finishes with the customer and the

bloke hands over his book with a pleasant smile dont they always? the

smiling killers. I dont have any great speech or clever rejoinder or any

wild sense of outrage I want to get across. I hadnt thought about it. Do

you mind, I simply say, and hand over the Rollins books. The assistantsmiles cordially and says I think this gentleman was first... thankfully me.

Perhaps he said bugger all, but whatever the case, he accepts them. At some

point hed asked if I was still getting the South Park book I was standing

away from the counter as I recall, so it was after Id put it back having

chosen the Rollins. I only have 10 on me, I explain needlessly to this

self-inflated fartknocker; this hologram in tweed and carpet slippers. This

selfless volunteer for the good of the community and benefit of the poor

'me'. Its not as if hes spending his own money, hes taking it. Andwouldnt have the least interest in any of my choices of course. Those and

my black chords and jacket and longish locks have already marked me out.

And the choice of reading matter of course. They're happy to sell it and

take the cash but they'll discriminate as a matter of course. He takes the

money and instead of handing it back, puts it on the counter. Librarians

here are adept at that too; especially there.

Id been about to add I only need to nip up the street to get more cash,though Id been in two minds about it, but as I like to please people along

with pleasing myself Id likely have done it. The change on the counter is

the decider. Just another loser. And perhaps his way of equalizing the

situation as he saw it for being obliged to not serve the respectable looking

liberty-taker earlier. As I said, theres a lot of it about, and this is the tip of

the iceberg. I could fill a book with this crap. And will. In terms of

seriousness its nothing compared to what goes on I know. Or dont know.

But I do know some history. and the business on the other side of the street

seemed more ominous and methodically vicious to me, but hey, its allvicious. Its all murder. Its all psychopathology. These everyday, common

garden variety sociopaths. These homely, smiling assassins. Signs of the

times. Its all a set-up. Every interaction. Theyre forever looking for ways

to trip you up, to get you in the shit. Because they believe anyone and

anything they see as digressing from the norm is little better than shit, if

that. The underlying thought (system) is they dont really believe you

deserve to live. At best, your quality of life should be shit. For then shit

you are. This is my elders and betters. The educated and civilized. The

pillars of the community from lowly to highly thought of. This is your

future as they would have it. They would prefer you had none and that you


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were in jail or dead. Preferably in that order. Or strung from the nearest

lamppost. Lucky for them it wasnt Henry himself buying some books. Id

like to have seen that. Hes too busy writing them, among other projects.

Ive never had much interest in his music but Im glad he exists. Im

certainly interested in what he has to say (hell be thrilled to hear).

Talking of standup, and I did mention it earlier, that wold be the

perfect opportunity to ask Any gangstalkers here? Come on down. Up.

Or if you were a rock star it would be the perfect lifestyle to make it

impossible for them to practice their shit. But then there are other means to

bring rock stars down, to set them up. Theres Lennon, and Marley, and Jim

Morrison and a whole lot of others Ive to read about in Alex Constantines

The Covert War Against Rock. That, when theyre not obsessed with the

thought of death and killing themselves over an unconscious attraction todeath and the nagging conviction of their own worthlessness, a la Curt

Cobain. As long as he wasnt shot in the head or drugged by someone else.

No different from the rest of us then. And theres Lenny Bruce, and John

Belushi, and Andy Kaufman, who seems to have been practicing his own

form of mass gaslighting for comedic purposes winding everyone up. A

wild and possibly crazy guy, but an interesting way to live, if a potentially

(and actually) dangerous one. And Jim Carey was perfect for that gig I

think, playing him in the movie biog, with Cobains ex Courtney Love as his wife and partner. Its a small world, and you can quote me on that.

Gangstalkers then, are the cowardly and crap comedians of sorts, who hide

overtly in the shadows; the anonymous nobodies basking in the reflected

glory of other nobodies like themselves, who have no choice but to blend

into the foreground in all mediocrity as their pathology wouldnt stand up to

scrutiny. Sane individuals wouldnt really see the joke, as the underlying

and often overt murderousness of attitude that underlies it would be

unmistakable. Time for PKDs We Can Remember It For You Wholesale

on BBC 7. The story on which the film Total Recall is based. But youprobably knew that.

I forgot to say. I once read about name comedians going oblong...

that's quite good... along... in a group during the Festival to student comedy

shows, reviews, solely for the purpose of heckling them, presumably if they

were no good, as they would expect and was why they went to harass

them. I suppose it was a bit of lighter relief for them and who can blame

them really, when youre talking about some students with privilegedbackgrounds who think theyre going to be the next Comic Strip or Beyond


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The Fringe (Yeah, Jonathon is a really funny guy. Ive never much taken

to Alan Bennet either), however well-meaning, taking peoples cash, just to

be shit, when punters thats me, could be going to see good shows and

artists, only if the Festival is clogged up with crap it can be confusing for

those not in the know. But its gang harassment by any other name. And

then again, I left it too late to see Gerry Sadowitz last year. Not everyone isgoing to get to see the best of the comedians, and hes one of the best of the

best. Id loved to have seen Emo Philips last time. I think he outgrossed

everyone else, financially at least. Our Gerry takes some beating. And

some would probably like to. Hes a living scream; jawdroppingly,

shockingly funny. And that was years ago. He may well be in a different

dimension of provocation now; not that I think thats the solely the

intention. Hes the Luke Rinehart of the stand-up circuit. The 'genius'

philosopher and psychologist in the guise of a Jewish Glaswegianmisanthrope. He cuts through the self-righteous hypocrisy and bullshit of

the bullshitting and hypocritically self-righteous. Whether hes aware the

world is a dream, an illusion made by the mind, I dont know, but perhaps it

comes close to the same thing when you refuse to take the BS seriously.

Take taking it not seriously, seriously, by all means. Its the only way to be.

You heard it here first. Perhaps not. I saw Dylan Moran the other week. In

the street I mean. He was smoking a cigarette, or fag as I prefer to call them,

and stubbed it out just before he went into the PO, at the top of Montpelier

Place. That's a 50 fine right there in this big bro town. Masonic Central.Thats at least the third time Ive seen him around. One of these days Im

going to talk to himOnly it puts me in the position of a fan, which I dont

mind really, only I can be an impossible combination of deep appreciation

bordering on reverence mixed with envy, and opinionated self-assurance,

probably based on no small envy. Very unbecoming in a nobody, I dont

doubt. When I Grow Up I Want To Be An Astronaut. Yeah, its that guy

again. For some reason the title boxes that are usually there on MTV TWO,

arent. When I grow up, I want to discover that both space and time are a

projection of the mind, that we never left heaven, and we only think were

here. What else is worth achieving beyond this but the constant awareness

this is the case, along with the means to keep it? You know it makes sense.

Not a plonker. I wonder how many comedians and actors and musicians

and others feel that life has truly happened to them. That they believe they

finally found what they were looking for. That it lived up to the hype or

their expectations. Or the fame, the money, and the sex and drugs did.

Until it killed them or they got old and their looks faded and their body lost

its former vigor and youthfulness. At what point did they begin looking fordeeper answers, if such a real possibility ever occurred to them at all. I

think it will come a bit later to the Def Leperds and Poisons and Motley


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Crews and Guns and Roses and Kiss'. And Ill never come to most of their

output. Or U2, and The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, and Pearl Jam, and But

theres always the odd great tune. Which can be as disorienting as it is

refreshing. As when Bowie teamed up with Lulu for a cover of The Man

Who Sold The World. I bought it of course, but would listen to it only out

of curiosity. God only knows what my mother made of it. She liked Lulu.I well recall playing the album - or elpee of the same title, and just as she

walked out of the bathroom, Bowie's She Shook Me Cold had just started,

where, after he sings We met upon a hill, the night was cool and still, he

goes on to sing She sucked my dormant will the point at which my

mother mum, to you and me stepped out of the bathroom, twisting her

face in disgust to cover her embarrassment at what she took to be the overt

sexuality of the lyrics, which was true of course, only not as literal as she

took them to be. That and the music would have no appeal to her at all.Then there was the classic moment, like some generation gap parody the

cultural great divide when we were all having our dinner tea on the

coffee table in the sitting-room in time for Top Of The Pops and Bowie

came on, performing Jean Genie along with Mick Ronson, who circled and

pranced around him as he sang, Bowie aloof and unsmiling in that video as

I remember. In a phrase, ultra cool. Man, was the bo outraged. Hes

outrageous, he sings and he bawls, Bowie sang. The bo just never picked

up on the irony. The master tape was accidentally wiped long since, at the

BBC, so lucky me.. He the bo knew I liked him of course. The ideawas probably to spoil it. My mother likely picked up on that, told him to

shut up and let us hear it. Even she knew he was basically a fool. I was

mesmerized. Franz Mesmerized. He represented a different world from

everything I knew, yet it was a world I recognized as I recognized him; a

true spiritual brother. A cult waiting to happen. It already had. The space

brother had arrived. Another reason to be cheerful and for the world to

never be the same again. Yeah, me too. Perhaps Im a cult waiting to

happen too. Include me out.

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Profane Exegesis: Friendly Neighborhood Fascism Inc