Instincts Begin on a "Timeless Plane"
Jane Eyre just came in the mail. It's too big and gothic--usually I jump right into a book once I get it, but sorry, Charlotte, I just ain't ready for a big dousing of gothic noveldom written by the only Bronte sister who had sex.
Philip Wylie in his enigmatic little textbook he calls An Essay on Morals says believing that we are a divine people and not beasts is an "august blunder."
And boy howdy have we "divine" creatures blundered so fucking all-the-time--and we keep blundering. Billions of us believe a totally fictitious history of ourselves--a man-invented bible of all of our fears--mainly our fear of dying, catagorized and given a shaman's interpretation (an ignorance interpretation) of who HUMANs are, why we are so special, and why we are divine. That's the only explanation those ancient ignorant men who gave us our myths could figure out--you know, why we grunt and we somehow understand what our gruntings mean--combined with our gestures--but the beasts of the jungle have gestures, too; and they grunt and babble, too; and especially when a monkey looks you in the eye and recognizes you--that's freaky. It looks like a human, it acts like a human, it has speech and gestures like a human, it is both anal and oral at the same time--terribly neurotic--but oh NO, monkeys were made to be ornamentation in the Judeo-Christian-Islam (desert religions) Big Daddy's estate he called Eden, and even though a computer can come up with an evolutionary profile that proves beyond a doubt that man evolved from apes and chimps still "divine" man or ignorant man just can't accept anything so fucking simple. Ignorant humans truly believe God stopped the sun from going around the earth one time--in one of those ancient Judaic myths Christians-Jews-Islamics believe with the simplicity of a child--and that's where these people stopped "learning" and "growing (developing)"--they stopped in the naive beliefs of their childhood no matter how rough that childhood might have been or how luxurious it might have been--to stay "children of their gods"--to stay energetic as children, yes, but as ignorant as children, too--not to say children aren't smart--not to say these fools aren't smart--hell, monkeys and apes are smart, too; smarter than us on some occasions. Monkey see; Monkey do.
That's child psychology--monkey see; monkey do I mean. Cause and effect. Bad and good. Child sees flame. Child is curious about flame--it fascinates him. His instincts make him more curious, make him reach out, like a snake uses its bifurcated tongue, and flicker his hand into the flame--whoooooo, HOT, ohhhhhhhhhhhh, crying suddenly in pain--oh my God, FIRE is either sent from God himself or it is a device of the boogie man--the Judaic-Christian-Islamic God (the desert god) appeared as fire alot, a pillar of fire once; a burning bush once--and the worship of fire goes back almost as far back as the worship of the SUN of God, the SUN who was the original god--the fiery sun (salvation from the sky)--and the Ancient Central Asian tribes had what they called a fire altar where the priests kept a perpetual flame going to which the "believers" brought offerings and sacrifices there to throw them on the fire. You see, these Central Asians were metallurgists and they knew fire was a cleansing agent--you throw your ore into the flames and damn if the purities of its innards come flowing out as precious metals--either bronze or silver or gold--from a dirty filthy slag-covered ugly rock comes the beauty of something precious--like the Native Americans believe silver is the tears of the Moon. I grew up around Native Americans--and then in Santa Fe, New Mexico, I had many Native American friends--including a love affair with a Navajo dancer--a spectacular woman who went on to teach dancing at the New Mexico School for the Deaf--a woman who felt the earth pulsating through her--and she became a silversmith, too, out at the Nambe silvermakers--and she showed me how pure silver could absorb moonlight and shine like a little sun in the palm of your hand in the middle of a moonlighty night. This woman also introduced me to the strange little insect Mexican Indians and Native Americans call The Child of God--it looks like it's got a human baby's head on it--it really does look at first glance like a baby's head.
Nambe silver from Nambe Pueblo, New Mexico.
"Born on a timeless plane." That's a beautiful phrase to me.
Tonight I happened to journey into teeveeland while I was eating a maple-glazed turkey sandwich on 7-grain bread with organic tomatoes, and there before me were true human beasts proving like crazy how monkey and apelike and basically instinctual we really are. The show was called The American Gladiators--it's a genre revival of an old used-to-be teevee show with numbskull-body-building-steroid-gobbling pretenders who pose and talk dumb tough talk, like "I'm gonna clean your clock, Jet Man." They all have names like Superstrongman or Big Tough-Ass Mama or Muscles for Brains, you know the types. These goony California workout nuts--men (girly men) and women (most look like they could play pro football--or maybe come in third in a dog show) come out and talk tough like rasslers, though really, you and I could kick their asses--one blow to their phony nuts--and that includes the women--and they're on the ground hollering "Uncle" in no time.
Anyway, this jungle-revival teevee show is monkey ego-tripping at its best. And hosting this jungle-environmental teevee show is the one and only true human ape, Hulk Hogan, or Terry Something, his real name. Hulk has to be about 60 years old now--he still looks freakish--maintaining his old phony rassler poses and spouting his old rasslin' mode cliches--Hulk helped make low-life and truly ignorant (monkey man) Vince McMahon (he inherited the World Rassling Federation from his rassling promoter father) richer than the God who stopped the sun from going around the earth.
Gladiators. What is so special about gladiators? Gladiators were Roman slaves weren't they?; they had to fight to the death for momentary glory and freedom until the next challenge came--didn't the Roman wealthy keep stables of gladiators? American gladiators are slaves to their own bodies--that's all they have--otherwise they are beasts--dumb as hell, oh yes they are, but when it comes to beasts, well, they're not bad, though I'll bet a wild bear could take on Hulk and Bulk and Super Lump and Wonder Bitch all at the same time and tear them limb for limb for a new American Gladiator world record--to the bear, hell, he or she was just stocking up some meat parts for some good thick fat before digging in for a long winter. Hell, I'll bet this shaved-head Mr. Zulu-looking gladiator (one of the American Gladiators) would have trouble kicking a wild mink's ass--or how about three weasels--hell, they'd eat his ass alive.
I laugh when I see the Hulkster still out there copping bucks off his Grade Z acting abilities. If your son or daughter come along with giantism, don't worry, take 'em to the Hulkster and maybe he can make them teevee stars on The American Gladiators or if Hulk throws 'em out on their ears, old Vince McMahon can make rasslers out of 'em--he loves guys with giantism disease, like his all-time favorite, Andre the Giant, who couldn't rassle for dick shit--he was just so big and lumpish and dead weight, hell, none of those steroid-pumped-up rasslin' freak-Os could bring him down to pin him--he was clumsy as hell, but still, he weighed 400 pounds and was about 6' 8 or something giant like that.
Football players seldom make good rasslers. Know why? Football is a real sport--it's hard to fake your way to a Super Bowl--that's why rasslin' is so difficult for them--it's totally phony and that's hard for a real sports players to deal with--like if Tiger Woods was really a phony and faking his golf achievements!
I heard a woman preacher say, "Open the eyes of my heart, Lord." I thought what an ignorant statement. I looked up a heart on the Internet and sure 'nuff, it ain't got no eyes, true believers. Besides, the Christian bible says women are supposed to be silent with their heads covered for humility when they are in the House of De Big MAN-Daddy Lard--same as Jewish chicks in synagogs--"Sit over there, darlink, and keep that scarf on your filthy tempting lush head of alluring hair and sit there and shut up and let the men do the God stuff--for God is a man and made woman on second thought out of a MAN's RIB. And millions upon millions of goofball human beings earnestly believe that's a scientific fact.
Ignorance is living instinctually--on that timeless plane--the conscious left alone--the unconscious repressed--for in the unconscious are the fears. How to handle fears--be defiant and full of bravado--just like those phony jungle creatures on the Hulkster's last hurrah show, The American Gladiators. If you like monkey houses and monkey antics and shit, then you'll love this teevee show.
Andre the Giant (looks like he's lost some weight) pairing off in a fake match against, yep, it's him, the Hulkster, Terry Hogan. Look at the dumbasses in the audience with fixed attention on these Grade Z actors.
Another The Daily Growler visit by Oliver the Monkey Man.
for The Daily Growler