How to Serve Man

How to Serve Man

(a cookbook)

Sept.
12, 2001

The Sun is rising once again over that bend on the Kit Carson Highway,
where, just yesterday, a Yeti stumbled out from the woods and got
himself roadkilled.

I listen to the radio, and feel a strange emotion. The news confirms
the horrible suspicions I have had, concerning the destination toward
which Your Social Reason (URIZEN) is trying to deliver us.

When we tune in to Paranoid Alien Radio, we hear warnings of what the
Starlords who shape the policies of the Paranoid Aliens are
attempting.

As I listen to Paranoid Alien Radio, I am trying to follow a recipe, so
that I can bake me a new loaf of cornbread to replace the one that
became just as charred as my innocence while I listened to
yesterday’s mews.

When I tune in to CNN, I see what Paranoid Alien Radio is trying to warn
us about. We look at the new converts to the Cult of the Starlords
wandering through the ruins of the New York City World Trade Center.
They are not deterred by the yellow police tape; apparently, neither
fire nor falling objects can hurt them any longer. Whenever they
encounter someone who is still one of us, they proseletize and hand
him a copy of what is apparently their Holy Book.

The golden Old Manuscript lettering printed across the crimson leather
covers spells in English, How to Serve Man. It is so marvelous
that, in our time of peril, the legions of the Starlords have come
down to give us a hand.

Our enchantment is dampened when a Jewish professor from the University
informs us that he has seen that kind of leather before. In the
Holocaust Museum at Belsen. It is a type of hide with a grain that is
unmistakable. These Bibles have been bound in human skin!

The Jew then produces a Kabalistic device of diamonds and symbols that he
calls the “Tree of Life.” Using this diagram as a decoding
instrument, he shows us what the main chapter headings say, in the
Language of the Constellations. For instance

• Make
  sure you remove the entrails
• Which
  body parts can be eaten, and by whom.
• Skinning
  the hide, and preparing it for market.
• Human
  Thigh, stuffed and roasted over hot coals
• How
  to prepare breast, belly, and back meat.
• Warning:
  human hearts are always the property of your expedition commander.
  How to offer them properly.

a

Good Morning morning out there in Paranoid Alien land. Is there anyone out there

who still is sufficiently in touch with the Four Directions, that he is able to do a rain dance and bring down real rain? 

The oven timer reminds me, the mistake of yesterday is not to be repeated. I open the oven door, and liberated corn-spirits spread their aroma all over the kitchen.

“So how do you like me now?”

Unmistakably, this is the Corn Mother with an attitude.

“Do you think that all that screaming just came out of New York?” she challenges me. “Will anyone dare to ask me, why the White Snake and the Black Snake are fighting?”

The corn husks which cover her breasts are beginning to spread apart. My attention is fixed on the cleft between her breasts.

“When the Angel of Death looked down on the two pyramids that had been raised up in lower Manhattan by the Priests of the Proud,” she explains to me, “she didn’t see anything that even looked like menstrual blood painted on the roof-combs. And you will have to realize that the children who have died from malnutrition and preventable diseases are driving that Fury crazy by demanding to know why their brothers and sisters are going to have to die too.”

Something is now screaming in my oven. When I look in, I see two witnesses howling in death-agony as they lie on a blockaded street. A NASA van roars in from Houston and is admitted through the police line. The two carcasses are loaded aboard for transport to the National Testing Grounds at Alamagordo. 

Eventually, after the fighting is over, and all of the tests that the U.S. government treasury can be billed for are performed, the stuffed hides shall be delivered to the International UFO Museum & Research Center on Main Street.

a

Do you call it revolution? I rather would consider, the social historians 100 years in the future shall call it, the creation of a new calendar of civilization.
In 2012, so they say, the ancient Maya calendar shall have traversed the 25 Intercalary Years between the Old Calendar which ended in 1987, and the New Calendar, which shall only be given to Man, if the Lady Who Is Crowned by the Sun is pleased with what She sees.
According to all traditions, an Intercalary Period of this sort is extremely perilous. During this time when the Lady of the Sun and the Moon is deciding on whether to give the Human Race a new calendar, all of the four-footed brothers and sisters, all of the winged brothers and sisters, all of the brothers and sisters that swim, waddle or crawl, shall be asked to give their testimony, on how the Two-Legged tribes have treated the world which they have been given. Even the Tree People who are rooted in the forests and the jungle shall be asked to give their testimony.
There are legal complaints which all of these parties have filed, over the nature of the stewardship exerted over the Planet Earth by it’s reigning Intelligent Species. As a result of these complaints against Mankind, it is predicted that the advent of the New Calendar shall be signaled by severe disruptions of the seasons

a

The Only Thing We Need to Fear

Good morning out there. This is Paranoid Alien Radio, broadcasting on 1519 killing hurts. We’re just here to warn you that if you aren’t paranoid, you simply aren’t facing reality.
This is Paranoid Alien Radio, letting you know that the aliens have already landed. Hey you, with your shining new car – you who know everything there is to know about the stock market, but who have lost touch with the cycles of the seasons. Can you prove that you are not an alien yourself?
Hello, Paranoid Alien Radio. My name is Prince Ranito. I was the Frog King who lost his fine tail. I’m just calling in to invite you to the big party the Aliens are going to be hosting in the World Trade Center of New York, in September of the year 2001.
This is the legendary Frog Prince, who used to be able to boast of the world’s finest tail, telling you about a few details that Edgar Casey left out, in his surreal effort to resurrect both the medicine and the mythology of the dispossessed Cherokees. Edgar Cayce was able to show us, that the tail of Plato’s Atlantis would fit nicely on the Bear who went ice fishing.

-->

Forgotten now, the honeymoon days of our liberal hopes, when we were able to believe that culture could create a revolution without Marx or Jesus. Once more, the Cycle of Violence has reached the point at which Bad Gods are able to demand human sacrifice.
 

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September 11, 2001

In the Sangre de Cristo Mountains

A Yeti stumbled out on the highway

And was roadkilled.

It was stuffed and put on display.

When carbon-14 dating has been perfected

This single specimen shall be able to tell us

The story of so many beasties whose hearts were torn out.

I would speak of the carnage on the road,

When headlights hypnotize animals,

But we also are standing in shock,

Having lost our voices.

It’s hard for us to speak with one another:

When the Yeti died, everything natural within ourselves

Died also.

Yet the momentum of outrage,

Tsunami of the 21^st Century

Approaches the shore with a driving ultimatum.

This escalation of terror can only be countered

By a revolution of the spirit.

Otherwise, Stalin and the Jacobins

Shall play their Heavy Metal on the economic pyramids,

While the old Aztec Gods

Grow even fatter than before.

Here, beside my breakfast cornbread

My telephone stumbles in shock.

It is not as though it had never stuttered before:

This horrible day in September when innocence dies,

When the emerald weeps blood,

When the different floating continents

No longer fit together.

We look out from our open graves;

We are free to walk into the world,

But we know that the once-born shall flee.

These once-born are running like rabbits,

Because our vision of an exploding world

Has changed us to foxes.

a

Requiem For Faust

Requiem for Faust (Bi1)
April 25, 1997
Hello out there on Paranoid Alien Radio. Today, we shall find ourselves examining a different wormhole.
This wormhole is the result of the collision of two different galaxies, both rotating about slightly different space-time continuum gravitars, which in systems theory could be translated as system principles.
As we enter into this wormhole, the light of falling bombs illumines the clouds with newsreel footlights.

 

Act I

We are looking at the Revolutionary Stage of the Epic Theater. The orange curtain is branded with the emblem of the IWW Bad Kitty. The curtain now opens, and all of the romantic poets of the 1820's and 1830's converge to proclaim that they are the Unacknowledged Legislators of the World.

These Unacknowledged Legislators are joined by the Sans-Culottes Ladies. Arm in arm, they dance in a rosary ring about the stage.

Then Faust appears, amid a blast of smoke pellets augumented by sizzlingdry ice. As he strides downstage to the center, he is followed by an obedient black poodle dog.

Faust sings an aria, loudly proclaiming that these artsy-crafty teenagers are much too wild, and that the world must be made safe for the culturally insensitive average citizen.

The Morality of the Majority

The tigers and wolves are falling in love

With the morality of the majority.

It is to their advantage

If the tigers and wolves

Appear to be very pious

But in truth they should not be so.

Curtain; end of Act I

When the curtain opens for the next act, a coffin dominates the downstagecenter. In it, we can see the corpse of Faust’s dead teenage girlfriend. The rumorsare going around, that she was pregnant at the time of her “accident.”

Act II Scene 2

Now, in the light of a new round of bombs, a headline bursts forth in the clouds.

The World At War

Everything below is rather smokey; it seems that civilization is beingdestroyed. The calendar counts off five years. At last, the bombs stop, but it takesanother year before the smoke clears.

It is now 1946. Faust has just committed suicide, because he does not want

to face the Nuremburg Tribunal.

Until the day he was captured, Faust believed that he would be remembered as the supervisor of an ambitious program of public works. Instead, he now shall be remembered for the role that he played in the course of his wartime duties atthe Buchenwald Extermination Camp.

     The curtain closes on the Second Act. When it opens once again, we see Faust driving a bulldozer through Hell. Up there in the balcony wings, we see Margaret lounging in the clouds, sharing tea and crumpets with Anne Frank, and2 or 3 other angels, who also got dispatched to Heaven through acts of treacheryand violence.

    We hear in the background a chorus singing: “How long, my Lord,how long?”

     So what about Mephistophiles? The Last Act must remain unfinished,because the time has not yet come for Mephistophiles to get his tail bobbed.

     Love has not yet been redeemed. Faust shall continue to harrow Hell, until the kibbutzes of Zion have brought forth the fruit of democratic movement which shall transform the tyrannical traditions of the whole Middle East.

     A culture is beginning to be born, and the space-time- transcending gravitar of this culture derives from the need of the survivors to witness some sign of redemptionon the ground of the Holocaust.

     The last act must remain unfinished, because, even though the war is over,there is not much that is green and growing beneath the chimneys where victimswere sacrificed to Moloch. Perhaps the only hope lies in the encoded memoirs ofcertain of the old comrades of the Resistance.

     Because the story is still uncompleted, we see so many men and women who meet and kiss, but cannot sustain their love.

Crude Oil & Careless Love

Apr. 28, 1995
    Hello there. This is Paranoid Alien Radio, broadcasting on 1519 killing hurts. This is Radio Free Earth questioning your fundamental ambivalence. What do we witness when we look at your chemical base? Why do we see Crude Oil everywhere? It not only powers your engines; it also has crept into the food that you eat. We can observe that some of you are even injecting Crude Oil directly into your elbow veins.
    We who are Paranoid Aliens believe that your choice of a chemical base has been a matter of careless love. Denial always leads to promiscuity, since when a couple is in denial, they will do things to each other that will make it impossible to ever really wish each other well again. We Paranoid Aliens would rather favor the witch, who admits she shall never be faithful, and is therefore capable of atoning for the cruelties her infidelity inflicts.
    Perhaps the terrible grim truth that is concealed beneath the myths that are the pillars of your economic systems, is that the world has been created by those warriors and the man-choosers who have lived their lives upon the ragged edges of the dream. If they are patient with the desperate women who try to seduce them just far enough to get some favor, the heroes of your own age shall win the hearts of those Valkyries of higher realms who are called Houris.
    We who are Paranoid Aliens watch the way that men and women dance upon your planet. And we cannot help but wondering: why should there be so much intimate violence? It is one thing to say, enough: I shall no longer feed you if you threaten to bite off my arm. It is quite another to torture your lover to death, because you interpret her weariness as a sign that she has willingly betrayed.

The Paranoid Alien Looks at Public Health on Earth

The Paranoid Alien Looks at Public Health on Earth

 

Boxing Day, 1994

Hello, out there in Radioland. This is Paranoid Alien Radio, broadcasting on 1519 Killing Hurts.

      What has become of our Victory over the Shadow, which we had believed had been won for all time by the heroes of the 1940's?

      About the same time your sister began developing breasts, she discovered that the Great Abomination was not the Silence of God, but rather, the inability of the weary partisans of the ‘40's to admit that the downfall of the Twisted Cross had been only a provisional victory. The luminescence of 1946 proved to be a False Dawn. We subsequently learned, that until the Powers that rule this world are made accountable to the cries of those who suffer because they have been left behind, these brazen Powers shall attempt to use material technology to reverse the direction of the Wheel of Karma.

      That is why the constellations beneath which children were born in the ‘60's gleamed so brightly, in the canopy of a night which was so dark that nearly every intelligent person contemplated suicide.

      Maybe it’s a miracle that anything survived. Or maybe it’s just that the Creator has a rather perverse sense of humor. 

 

Bulletin on the Public Health of Your Planet

 

(Alien Voice with mechanical Intonation)

• Good morning from Paranoid Alien Radio, broadcasting on 1519 killing hurts, and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. In the interest of public health upon your planet, we must warn you of a plague which is to be taken just as seriously as the White Plague that swept through all of Continental Europe during the 1940's.
• When you study the Holocaust and the Gotterdammerung, you usually leave out the influence of the Anti-man Djinn. Yes, certain stars do have anthropologists who do come around to take pictures of the savages torturing each other. They are tricked when you nibble at each other with lovebites, because their reptile minds can’t understand how it is possible to love and hate at the same time. But so long as you let yourself be ruled by games of serious dominance and submission, you’ll find you are caught in the nets of Cosmic Imperialists, who want to keep you bound in rituals of self-destruction, because they fear the day that your perversities shall become fashionable among their reptile-women.
• That is why you are suffering from this epidemic. We know that the first thing your rulers will do, shall be to try to control the epidemic through rites of human sacrifice. When this doesn’t work they shall try torturing victims, in hopes that the Gods shall smile. Because they live their days in the shadow of enormous pride, they can’t understand why the appetite of the Cruel Gods for human blood seems to escalate like a heroin habit.
• That is why we Paranoid Aliens have had to come down to inspect your military installations. We have had to intervene, because we are the only ones who are being allowed to question the chastity of your heroic soldiers. We may need to carry some of you off; this may be the only way that we can put an end to the gang-rapes that a certain group of us hears about when it tunes in to the voices of the mothers’ prayers.
• It would have been better if you had allowed the soldiers to drag all their harlots in tow. Then, at least, there might have been some honor, and some accountability for how they were spreading their own social diseases among the natives.
• It would be even better if these women were to gang together, to comfort and protect each other, and to demand the proper rites of atonement from men who’ve subjected their loved ones to pain and humiliation. When our Paranoid Alien Public Health Officers are able to observe this sort of response, we shall be able to conclude that your species is developing an immune reaction that is capable of suppressing the disease. Until that time comes, we shall need to continue our inspections, and we may need to carry some of your leaders off for special re-educational sessions.

 

A Place Where Mutually Incompatible Universes Collide

 

Hello there, let me introduce myself. I have come to your Great American Desert. I shall let you call me, “Roswell Man.”

      Some of you shall question, whether I should be called a man at all. The experts on who is a man are supposed to be the Anthropologists – but I’ve found that these Anthropologists are prejudiced against us Flying Saucer People. So prejudiced, that if one of us has a motor vehicle accident in New Mexico, he gets turned over to the Feds for scientific dissection.

      If you want to know, that is the reason why I am a Paranoid Alien. But I’ve been down here long enough to discover that, in the plains that are now staked with oil derricks, almost everyone is just as paranoid as I am..

      The Staked Plain of New Mexico is a place where several mutually incompatible universes are colliding. In most of the towns except Roswell, it’s snake-oil evangelism and Seven-Day Creationism. On the military bases it’s top-secret agendas and random particles from the nuclear physics lab. Out where the money is made, it’s drilling rigs send out by Napoleonic consortiums, as well as the human trafficking in illegal workers. Is it any wonder, with all this crazy-making, that there are Native villages in which a new Jesus gets nailed to a cross every year?

      If shoes are put out on the doorstep the next day, Christ has survived his ordeal.

Given the sort of confusion that your economic system imposes on the conscience, I really don’t think it’s surprising that some people want to believe in me as a God, while some of your leading theologians will insist that I must be the very Devil.

      Since my race is more like yours than I care to admit, it’s possible we may end up becoming your devils. But just for the record, the only reason I was flying around over Roswell the day of my motor vehicle accident, is that I was gathering data for a post-graduate thesis in Anthropology. As an anthropologist myself, I am aware that the cross-cultural excuse for Imperialism is that it is better for a people to be under the occupation of masters who rule by The Book, than to allow them to wallow forever in child-sacrifice and civil wars.

      When I deliver my report to the Starlords, I shall advise all to take solemn warning from the sinful conquests and terrible downgoings of the Conquistador caste in Roswell. I pray to what you call Allah that, in the fearful event that we are mandated by the Star Council to be your protectors, the people of my star shall do better than those of your planet have done in similar situations.

But knowing as I do the terrible similarity between my race and yours, I cannot guarantee it.

5. Reliable informed sources indicate than even though their home planet is many light years away, at warp-speed they can arrive here in 15 minutes.

The Alternative Current

 Good Morning. Welcome to the Paranoid Alien Radio Hour. This is Paranoid Alien Radio, broadcasting out of Roswell New Mexico on 1519 Killing Hurts. Is there an immigration lawyer in the house? All of our little green aliens from the outer limits are getting paranoid. Maybe it’s all on account of some chemical the agribusinesses sprayed on the lettuce.

We just want to let you know, there’s something going on out there that only the big almond eyes of the paranoid aliens can see. For one thing, we want you to know that your tax dollars have been supporting the best wrecking contractors money can buy. Bang bang Shamballah!

Oh oh! There goes Hialeah, New Orleans, Mobile, Alabama, Biloxi, Tallahassee, and other cities of the Aztec Gulf flood plain. Gone, gone, gone with the dreams of the ancient Atlantis which was supposedly lost under the Atlantic Sea.

Good morning. This is Paranoid Alien Radio, waking you up so that you can realize, that the coyotes really are howling over the remains of what used to be Western Civilization. Hello. This is Paranoid Alien Radio, trying to tell you that if you do not find the Green Tree of Peace, the ecologically sustainable garden of grace & mercy, lots of people are going to find that they have had to surrender it all to the Revolution.

Encounter With the Fire Marshall

Encounter With the Fire Marshall

April 2, 1994

    Again, Regina and I are seated at her breakfast nook table, when the ghost of Soren Kirkegaard flies in from Denmark to join us.  He introduces himself as the Fire Marshall.

    “If we would be spiritual explorers,” declares Soren, “we must acknowledge that the karmic road is paved with gravel. And if we accept that we are the adopted brothers and sisters of the God Who Died on the Cross, then we must also accept that we shall have our turns to scream and groan when the slaves get flogged.  It’s only those who are too punch-drunk with pain to say no to God, who can win the good race, and gain admission to the House of Lords in Heaven.”

    “You are the one who were the bandit,” Regina critiques. “You were the one who frightened the Church and the State by proclaiming that you had been led to establish, not a new theology, but a division of natural science which would examine social parasites!”

    “I wished to lead the people of sincere devotion away from the decadent castles of Ludvig, so that they could build the kind of defenses which would be of some actual value in resisting the coming tide of bestiality,” the Fire-Marshal answers. “The masses of so-called Christians will not join me in this effort, because their leaders have too much regard for a fine purse. But when they recognize the nature of the plague which is encroaching, and which is carried by the amiable mediocrity of popular Christianity, the few who are healers shall appreciate my vision of the Vanishing Point. Quite simply, we must be able to look at everything from both unbelief and faith, so that we may develop a hyperbolic relationship to the True and Unattainable Ideal.

    “Once we have developed that sort of quiet and inward relationship, we shall be able to appreciate the potential oil wells that lie beneath so many avocado ranches and other small and independent farms. We also shall appreciate that certain resources must remain potential, until the rapacity of certain economic systems have been chastised. You see it every day, but you refuse to look. You say that God takes care of his own, but what happens when the smallholders try to hold back the developers’ bulldozers? Of course, their petit-romanticism is too small for the world, and therefore doomed for failure – but is the more efficient System of the Beast that drives it out, any sort of real improvement?”

 

Encounter with the Real Peoples' Grandfather

Behold another voice, whose visible image at the table appears as a scowling tribal face, a mask carved rather crudely out of a log:

      “Before you go on and on in your discussion of what is or is not appropriate for a Christian, I believe that I have a right to ask of you one little question. By a Christian do you mean a Lutheran or a Methodist – which is to say, one whose life is programmed by the ideological structions of the mercantile idealism of Europe? Or does being a “Believer” imply a relationship with the sense of Prophesy which you recognize in Jesus the Christ, but which so-called primitive peoples also see in the teachings of Medicine People like Deganiwidah or the White Buffalo Woman?”

      “Ho there!” chuckles the Fire Marshall. “I now see what it is I longed to seek through travel, but despaired of finding on account of the thorn in my flesh. That is not a little thing you ask of me. I know that our Western Civilization is going down, and that on this account the man of discretion is likely to be the solitary.”

      “But love lurks in the woods,” insists Regina. “Your world is knocked out of equilibrium, because the weight of large estates and big crimelord houses puts everything out of balance. You can’t have love while you are trying to shoot a gatling gun. It is only when you can begin to appreciate the inspiration in the flowing water, that love has a chance to survive.”

      “In order to become a people,” grins the crudely carved wooden mask, “you’ve got to develop traditions of courtesy, which are founded on the awareness of past inspirations. Or you can act like the Crude Oil Brothers, who are always bringing in their mercenaries to take all the valued resources away from the little brown men. It’s just like your domestic violence problem. Whether it’s gas and oil rights or the rights to favors in bed – your so-called Christians have shown the world that they are not to be trusted. Or at least, not until you have begun to let your women have a chance to civilize you.”

Spider-Woman and the Smoking Chimney

    “Look at the board on which the cruel game is played,” declares The Happy Hunting Ground’s attorney-general. “Look how the rules all have been re-written by the God of Jealousy. You turn everything in life into an all-out struggle, and then, to make sure no one else can win, you change the rules as you go. For this reason, we’re convicting Jealousy of High Treason. Has the Felon Angel anything to plead?”
    “I don’t think he has any answer,” witnesses the Fire Marshall, “because Felon Apollyon knows that anything he declares may be used by the prosecution. And, as the Fire Marshal, I have got to take the Prosecutor’s side. I have seen too many instances of arson, and all of the evidence seems to indicate that the Indo-European Gods have not only managed a hostile takeover of Christianity, but that they are using the resulting consortium as a pretext for burning and imprisoning women.”

    “Let us examine the scene of the crime from the perspective of the Back Door,” imparts the Crudely Notched Mask. “Then, I believe, you shall see how the Guardian of the Ice and the Oceans would look at what has been coming down ever since Europe’s so-called enlightenment. Ever since the end of the Dark Ages, we have noticed that more and more hot smoke has been rising up from Europe’s chimneys. At first, it was just blacksmiths building fires so they could manufacture swords and armor for the knights.
    “The kings in those days thought they owned it all. What they did not understand, as they looked out on their Large Estates from the Manor Houses and Castles they farmed out to their vassals, was that their conquest of the common people was only the first stage in a process of avalanching entropy. The kings will try to develop enough prosperity to satisfy the people, and hope to settle down to a 500 year long Elizabethan Age, where gentlemen from varied nations shall duel upon the Spanish Main.
    “The Spider-Woman who spun and wove this fine tapestry died, and was remembered for the next 500 years as a lady who got tired of torturing her boyfriends and became a little old maid. The next kings were to find that Elizabeth’s peace could not last 50 years, let alone 500. For one thing, there were now by far too many chimneys, through which more and more smoke was rising up to disfigure the ozone. Beyond that, the Royal Privateers were becoming Disloyal Rats, and financing their treasonous aims through the most dishonorable sorts of commerce. No Crusader at the walls of Jerusalem has ever smitten a Saracen with such venom, as the Masters of the European Chimneys now inflicted on Africa.
    “You-all have studied the Great Bourgeois Rebellions in High School. What your instructors neglected to mention, was that these rebellions were simply the turbulence that was being generated by more and more smoke that was going up more and more chimneys. About the same time that Kings and their loyal retainers started getting their heads chopped off, the chimneys began reaching a critical mass, and chimneys started building chimneys. It wasn’t just the armory blacksmith anymore – now any little hamlet with a mill had to have a chimney too, so that a boiler could be stoked till it produced live steam.
    “And now the boilers with their chimneys were starting to walk over the land and across the Great Waters. Wherever these walking chimneys would travel, stationary chimneys would rise up to service the traveling chimneys. We have arrived at the point at which the Chief Engineers will try to stop this proliferation of chimneys, and will find out that they cannot. They will try to spread the alarm that all of the chimneys built since 1980 are united in a Communist conspiracy, and that any new chimney must be licensed by an old chimney – but in the end they will fail. We, who are the Spirits on the Northern Mountains, could have informed them long ago, just what an avalanche is all about – but the Chief Engineers were always too proud to listen.”