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The Annihilation Fountain Issue 06
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THE ANNIHILATION FOUNTAIN
A JOURNAL OF CULTURE ON THE EDGE...
TEXT ONLY - ISSUE #6
The Annihilation Fountain & TAF Copyright c 1997-99 Neil MacKay
ISSN 1480-9206
http://www.capnasty.org/taf/
the_annihilation_fountain@iname.com
CONTENTS:
---------
*THE 21ST. CENTURY ARTILECT - MORAL DILEMMAS CONCERNING THE ULTRA
INTELLIGENT MACHINE
*WHY I BELIEVE SETI (SEARCH FOR EXTRA TERRESTRIAL INTELLIGENCE)
FUNDING IS A WASTE OF MONEY
*ARE WE A FUNCTIONAL CULTURE?
*READINGS TO ESCORT YOU INTO THE MILLENNIUM
*CAFFEINE, EPHEDRINE, AND THE WENDY O. EXPERIENCE (FOR PAM)
*CONTRIBUTORS TO THIS ISSUE
************************************************************************
THE 21ST. CENTURY ARTILECT - MORAL DILEMMAS CONCERNING THE ULTRA
INTELLIGENT MACHINE
by Dr. Hugo de Garis, Brain Builder Group, ATR, Kyoto, Japan
written May 1989, appeared in: Revue Internationale de Philosophie, 1990
************************************************************************
ABSTRACT
--------
Within one to two human generations, it is likely that computer
technology will be capable of building brain-like computers
containing millions if not billions of artificial neurons. This
development will allow neuroengineers and neurophysiologists to
combine forces to discover the principles of the functioning of
the human brain. These principles will then be translated into
more sophisticated computer architectures, until a point is
reached in the 21st. century when the primary global political
issue will become, "Who or what is to be dominant species on this
planet - human beings, or artilects (artificial intellects)?"
A new branch of applied moral philosophy is needed to study the
profound implications of the prospect of life in a world in which
it is generally recognised to be only a question of time before
our computers become smarter than we are. Since human beings could
never be sure of the attitudes of advanced artilects towards us,
due to their unfathomable complexity and possible "Darwinian" self
modification, the prospect of possible hostilities between human
beings and artilects cannot be excluded.
KEYWORDS
--------
Artilects (Artificial Intellects), Ultra Intelligent Machine,
Neuro-Engineering, Dominant Species, Artificial Neuron.
1. INTRODUCTION
---------------
A revolution is taking place in the field of Artificial
Intelligence. This revolution, called "Connectionism", attempts to
understand the functioning of the human brain in terms of
interactions between artificial abstract neuron-like components,
and hopes to provide computer science with design principles
sufficiently powerful to be able to build genuine artificial
electronic (optical, molecular) brains (KOHONEN 1987,McCLELLAND et
al 1986, MEAD 1987). Progress in micro electronics and related
fields, such as optical computing, has been so impressive over the
last few years, that the possibility of building a true artilect
within a human generation or two becomes a real possibility and
not merely a science fiction pipe dream.
However, if the idea of the 21st century artilect is to be taken
seriously (and a growing number of Artificial Intelligence
specialists are doing just that (MICHIE 1974, WALTZ 1987, de GARIS
1989), then a large number of profound political and philosophical
questions arise. This article addresses itself to some of the
philosophical and moral issues concerning the fundamental question
"Who or what is to be dominant species on this planet - human
beings or the artilects?"
2. A MORAL DILEMMA
------------------
In order to understand the disquiet which is growing amongst an
increasing number of intelligists (specialists in Artificial
Intelligence) around the world in the late 1980s (WALTZ 1987, de
GARIS 1989), it is useful to make a historical analogy with the
development of the awareness of the nuclear physicists in the
1930s, of the possibility of a chain reaction when splitting the
uranium atom. At the time, that is, immediately after the
announcement of the splitting, very few nuclear physicists thought
hard about the consequences to humanity of life in a nuclear age
and the possibility of a large scale nuclear war in which billions
of human beings would die.
Some intelligists feel that a similar situation is developing now
with the connectionist revolution. The intelligists concerned, are
worried that if the artificial intelligence community simply
rushes ahead with the construction of increasingly sophisticated
artilects, without thinking about the possible long term
political, social and philosophical consequences, then humanity
may end up in the same sort of diabolical situation as in the
present era of possible nuclear holocaust.
Within a single human generation, computer scientists will be
building brain-like computers based on the technology of the 21st
century. These true "electronic (optical, molecular) brains" will
allow neurophysiologists to perform experiments on machines
instead of being confined to biological specimens. The marriage
between neuro-engineers and neuro-physiologists will be extremely
fruitful and artificial intelligence can expect to make rapid
progress towards its long term goal of building a machine that can
"think", a machine usually called an "artificial intelligence", or
"artilect".
However, since an artilect is, by definition, highly intelligent,
(and in the limit, ultra intelligent, that is, having an
intelligence which is orders of magnitude superior to ours), if
ever such a machine should turn against humanity, it could be
extremely dangerous. An atomic bomb has the enormous advantage,
from the point of view of human beings, of being totally stupid.
It has no intelligence. It is human beings who control it. But an
artilect is a different kettle of fish entirely.
Artilects, unlike the human species, will probably be capable of
extremely rapid evolution and will, in a very short time (as
judged by human standards), reach a state of sophistication beyond
human comprehension. Remember, that human neurons communicate at
hundreds of meters per second, whereas electronic components
communicate near the speed of light, a million times faster.
Remember, that our brains, although containing some trillion
neurons, has a fixed architecture, as specified by our genes. The
artilects could choose to undertake "Darwinian experiments" on
themselves, or parts of themselves, and incorporate the more
successful results into their structure. Artilects have no obvious
limit as to the number of components they may choose to integrate
into themselves. To them, our trillion neurons may seem puny.
Not only may artilects be superior to humans in quantitative
terms, they may be greatly our superiors in qualitative terms as
well. They may discover whole new principles of "intelligence
theory" which they may use in restructuring themselves. This
continuous updating may grow exponentially - the smarter the
machine, the better and faster the redesigning phase, so that a
take-off point may be reached, beyond which, we human beings will
appear to artilects as mice do to us.
This notion of Darwinian experimentation is important in this
discussion, because it runs counter to the opinions of many people
who believe (rather naively, in my view) that it will be possible
to construct artilects which will obey human commands with
docility. Such machines are not artilects according to my
conception of the word.
I accept that machines will be built which will show some obvious
signs of real intelligence and yet remain totally obedient.
However, this is not the issue being discussed in this paper. What
worries me is the type of machine which is so smart that it is
capable of modifying itself, of searching out new structures and
behaviours, that is, the "Darwinian artilect".
Since any machine, no matter how intelligent, is subject to the
same physical laws as is any other material object in the
universe, there will be upper limits to the level of self-control
of its intellectual functions. At some level in its architectural
design, there will be "givens", that is, top level structures
determining the artilect's functioning, which are not "judged" by
any higher level structures. If the artilect is to modifiy these
top level structures, how can it judge the quality of the change?
What is meant by quality in such a context?
This problem is universal for biological systems. Quality, in a
biological context, is defined as increased survivability.
Structural innovations such as reproduction, mutation, sex, death,
etc., are all "measured" according to the survivability criterion.
It is just possible that there may be no other alternative for the
artilect, than taking the same route. Survivability however, only
has meaning in a context in which the concept of death has
meaning. But would not an artilect be essentially immortal, as are
cancer cells, and would a fully autonomous artilect, resulting
from an artilectual reproductive process, but with modified
structures, accept being "terminated" by its "parent" artilects,
if the latter consider the experiment to have been a failure?
If the offspring artilects do not agree to being "killed", they
might be allowed to live, but this would imply that every artilect
experiment would create a new immortal being, which would consume
scarce resources. There seem to be at least three possible
solutions to this problem. Either a limit is placed on the number
of experiments being performed, a philosophy inevitably leading to
evolutionary stagnation, or artilects are replaced by newer
versions, (processes called reproduction and death, in biological
contexts), or the growing population of artilects could undertake
a mass migration into the cosmos in search of other resources.
This Darwinian modification is, by its nature, random and chancy.
The problem for human beings is that an artilect, by definition,
is beyond our control. As human beings, with our feeble intellects
(by artilectual standards), we are unable to understand the
implications of structural changes to the artilect's "brain",
because this requires a greater intellect than we possess. We can
only sit back and observe the impact of artilectual change upon
us. But this change may not necessarily be to our advantage.
The "moral circuits" of the artilects may change so that they no
longer feel any "sympathy" for human beings and decide that, given
a materials shortage on the planet, it might be advisable, from an
artilectual point of view, to reduce the "ecological load" by
removing the "hungriest" of the inferior species, namely human
beings.
Since human moral attitudes, like other psychological attitudes,
are ultimately physical/chemical phenomena, human beings could not
be sure of the attitudes of artilects towards human beings, once
the artilects had evolved to a highly advanced state. What human
beings consider as moral is merely the result of our biological
evolution. As human beings we have no qualms about killing
mosquitos or cattle. To us, they are such inferior creatures we do
not question our power of life or death over them.
This uncertainty raises the inevitable fear of the unknown in
human beings. With artilects undertaking experiments to "improve"
themselves (however the artilects define improvement), we humans
could never be sure that the changing intelligences and attitudes
of the artilects would remain favourable to us, even if we humans
did our best to instil some sort of initial "Asimovian",
human-oriented moral code into them. Personally, I believe that
Asimov's "Three Laws of Robotics" are inappropriate for machines
making random changes to themselves to see whether they lead to
"improvements". Asimov's robots were not artilects.
3. A WORLD DIVIDED
------------------
With many intelligists agreeing that it will be technologically
possible to build electronic (optical, molecular) brains within a
human generation or two, what are the moral problems presented to
humanity, and particularly to applied moral philosophers? The
biggest question in many peoples minds will be, "Do we, or do we
not, allow such artilects to be built?" Given the time frame we
are talking about, namely 20 to 50 years from now, it is unlikely
that human societies will have evolved sufficiently to have formed
a world state, having the power to enforce a world wide ban on
artilectual development, beyond an agreed point. What will
probably happen, is that military powers will argue that they
cannot afford to stop the development of artilects, in case the
"other side" creates smarter "soldier robots" than themselves.
Military/political pressures may ensure artilect funding and
research until it is too late.
The artilect question alone, is sufficient in itself, to provide a
very strong motivation for the establishment of a skeleton world
government within the next human generation. With the rapid
development of global telecommunications and the corresponding
development of a world language, the establishment of a skeleton
world government within such a short time may not be as naive as
it sounds.
For the purposes of discussion, imagine that such a ban, or at
least a moratorium, on artilect development is established. Should
such a ban remain in force forever? Could one not argue that
mankind has not only the power, but the moral duty to initiate the
next major phase in evolution, and that it would be a "crime" on a
universal or cosmic scale not to exercise that power?
One can imagine new ideological political factions being
established, comparable with the capitalist/communist factions of
today. Those in favour of giving the artilects freedom to evolve
as they wish, I have labelled the "Cosmists", and those opposed, I
have labelled the "Terras" (or Terrestrialists). I envisage a
bitter ideological conflict between these two groups, taking on a
planetary and military scale.
The Cosmists are so named because of the idea that it is unlikely,
once the artilects have evolved beyond a certain point, that they
will want to remain on this provincial little planet we call
Earth. After all, there are some trillion trillion other stars to
choose from. It seems more credible that the artilects will leave
our planet and move into the Cosmos, perhaps in search of other
ultraintelligences.
The Terras are so named because they wish to remain dominant on
this planet. Their horizons are terrestrial. To the Cosmists, this
attitude is provincial in the extreme.
To the Terras, the aspirations of the Cosmists are fraught with
danger, and are to be resisted at any cost. The survival of
humanity is at stake.
There may be a way out of this moral dilemma. With 21st century
space technology, it may be entirely feasible to transport whole
populations of Cosmist scientists and technicians to some distant
planet, where they can build their artilects and suffer the
consequences. However, even this option may be too risky for some
Terran politicians, because the artilects may choose to return to
the Earth, and with their superior intellects, they could easily
overcome the military precautions installed by the Terras.
4. SUMMARY
----------
This article claims that intelligists will be able to construct
true electronic (optical, molecular) brains, called artilects,
within one to two human generations. It is argued that this
possibility is not a piece of science fiction, but is an opinion
held by a growing number of professional intelligists. This
prospect raises the moral dilemma of whether human beings should
or should not allow the artilects to be built, and whether
artilects should or should not be allowed to modify themselves
into superbeings, beyond human comprehension. This dilemma will
probably dominate political and philosophical discussion in the
21st century. A new branch of applied moral philosophy needs to be
established to consider the artilect problem.
5. REFERENCES
-------------
(de GARIS 1989) "What if AI Succeeds? The Rise of the Twenty-First
Century Artilect", Artificial Intelligence Magazine (cover story),
Summer 1989
(EVANS 1979) "The Mighty Micro", Coronet Books.
(JASTROW 1981) "The Enchanted Loom", Simon & Schuster, New York.
(KELLY 1987) "Intelligent Machines. What Chance?", Advances in
Artificial Intelligence, Wiley.
(KOHONEN 1987) "Self-Organization and Associative Memory", 2nd
edn. Kohonen T., Springer-Verlag, Berlin, Heidelberg.
(McCLELLAND et al 1986) "Parallel Distributed Processing", Vols 1
and 2, McClelland J.L. & Rumelhart D.E. (Eds), MIT Press,
Cambridge, Mass.
(McCORDUCK 1979) Forging the Gods, "Machines Who Think", Freeman.
(MEAD 1987) "Analog VLSI and Neural Systems", Mead C., Addison
Wesley, Reading, Mass.
(MICHIE 1974) "On Machine Intelligence", Michie D., Edinburgh
University Press, Edinburgh.
(WALTZ 1987) "The Prospects for Building Truly Intelligent
Machines", Waltz D., Thinking Machines Corporation, Cambridge,
Mass.
Dr. Hugo de Garis,
Head, Brain Builder Group,
Evolutionary Systems Department,
ATR Human Information Processing Research Labs,
2-2 Hikaridai, Seika-cho, Soraku-gun,
Kansai Science City, Kyoto-fu, 619-02, Japan.
tel. + 81 774 95 1079,
fax. + 81 774 95 1008,
degaris@hip.atr.co.jp
www.hip.atr.co.jp/~degaris
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************************************************************************
WHY I BELIEVE SETI (SEARCH FOR EXTRA TERRESTRIAL INTELLIGENCE) FUNDING
IS A WASTE OF MONEY
by Dr. Hugo de Garis
************************************************************************
I am fascinated by SETI, by the idea that there are possibly
zillions of other lifeforms out there. Its one of humanity's
deepest issues, and I devote a lot of time and thinking to it. I
must have over half a meter's worth of books on the topic of ETI
in my private library (of over 4000 books). However, in thinking
about SETI, I become increasingly sceptical as I apply my own
Cosmist ideas to the whole SETI question. (See my essays on the
Cosmist theme on this web site http://www.hip.atr.co.jp/~degaris).
Here's my reasoning -
I believe that advanced civilizations out there are NOT
BIOLOGICALLY BASED. They are Cosmist, and hence based on
technologies far superior to nature's carbon based structures.
These technologically superior bases will allow these
super-creatures ("artilects" = artificial intellects) to perform
at levels many orders of magnitude above human levels, especially
intellectually. For example, such artilects could use 3D,
reversible logic, heatless circuits and be the size of asteroids
with 10 to power 40 components. Such creatures could have
intellects which human beings cannot even imagine, the way a mouse
can never understand calculus, because it doesnt have the
necessary human brain circuitry. The essence of my argument
against SETI funding (although not totally, see later) is that
artilects will probably not be the least bit interested in such
primitive preoccupations as radio communication with ultra
primitive beings such as biologically based self assemblers.
What is SETI? The main idea is to use radio telescopes to receive
radio signals from other civilizations in the galaxy. Why do I
think it is highly improbable that such a signal will be found?
Because it is highly unlikely that such ETIs will want to do such
a thing, or for very long. Suppose that the evolution of
intelligence on earth is a fairly typical occurence in the galaxy.
With the recent evidence of life on Mars, and alternative life
forms occupying the terrestrial deep sea volcanic vents, it looks
as though life gets going pretty easily, so there have probably
been zillions of life forms generated in the galaxy. Since our sun
is only about 4 to 5 billion years old, it is likely that there
are life generating planets Billions of years older. Take a
typical case of the evolution of intelligence. It takes several
billion years to reach human levels, and then very quickly it goes
Cosmist, i.e. there is an explosion of intelligence due to the
creation of Cosmist technological capabilities. The artilects thus
created very probably would not be interested in spending time on
an activity found interesting by creatures of many orders of
magnitude less intelligent than themselves (i.e. sending radio
signals to biological beings). Hence the time window in which
there would be an interest in such an activity is probably only
one or two centuries. But this fleeting moment could occur any
time in billions of years, i.e. an a-priori probability of 1 in
tens of millions, of detecting such a fleeting signal.
Any automatic transmitter left running over billions of years
would have to be self repairing, otherwise it would be destroyed
by cosmic rays etc over time - lots of time. But why would the
artilects be interested in setting up such primitive devices as
self repairing radio transmitters? If you teach a monkey sign
language it will tell you whats on its mind - bananas! Humans are
bored by such preoccupations and give zero time to such
obsessions. Similarly, artilects would not bother with human level
interests. They would have their own vastly superior
preoccupations. Even if self repairing telescopes were set up in
the few fleeting centuries between the rise of human level
technologies and before the Cosmist transition, they would still
probably decay over a few centuries. How could the self repair
instructions be kept immune from ultra powerful cosmic rays. Self
repairing devices might increase the size of the signal
transmission window, but only by a few centuries, or of that order
of time. My argument remains the same.
So, if I control the funding agency, do I turn off the money tap
to SETI? No, because if I'm wrong, the consequences for humanity
will be profound, so even if the odds of detecting an alien signal
is tiny, provided the cost of detecting it is not outrageous, it
should be searched for. BUT - for the reasons given above, I'm
very sceptical that such a signal will be found. Summarizing - the
commonplace transition to Cosmist intelligence levels means that
the artilects are not interested in sending radio signals to
primitive beings. Hence the time window in which they would be
interested is only a few centuries, but planets have ages varying
over billions of years. The odds of picking up a signal is 1 to
tens of millions.
By the way - the idea that zillions of life forms may already have
made the Cosmist transition, probably answers Fermi's question,
"Why arent they here?" The artilects are probably so small (the
smaller the component base, the faster the interactions, and the
greater the density of information storage) that we dont see them.
Maybe they are all around us, but we are too dumb to notice, and
because of our stupidity and our huge size, they totally ignore
us. Or maybe they are huge, but for gravitational reasons, cant be
close to the earth. Maybe "planets" elsewhere are gargantuan
artilects, but still ignore us because we are too stupid.
Somehow, I feel there's a lack of vision in the SETI community,
too much tunnel vision, and not enough thinking about the
consequences for SETI when creatures of human intelligence levels
decide to go Cosmist, as I suspect most have done in the past.
ETIs ARE COSMIST!
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ARE WE A FUNCTIONAL CULTURE?
by Joe Tomorrow
************************************************************************
In the last issue of TAF Morbus asked, and expanded on, "Are We A
Culture?" In this issue I would like to continue in that vain by asking,
and hopefully expanding on, are we a functional culture? Obviously the
first question that comes to mind is just what is functional culture? To
begin to attempt to answer that I have to step back in time a couple of
years and relate where the notion of functional culture first appeared
to me.
Long before The Annihilation Fountain reared its ugly little head there
was a paper magazine (anyone remember paper?) entitled Bone Games - A
Journal of Functional Culture. It was a short lived experimental attempt
at independent publishing which proved too costly to continue (thank god
for the net). What Bone Games attempted to do, through interviews,
articles, editorials, rants, etc., was define/explore just what
"functional culture" was/meant to myself and a co-editor. The varied
notions of functional culture, as defined in the first (and only) issue
of Bone Games, that we came up with were as follows:
positively - as culture that works. Interests are in the
general purposes of culture;
notions of healthy and unhealthy culture;
Industrial vs. personal culture, etc.;
the works of particular significant artists, theorists,
performers, interesting people;
culture that promotes freedom, vitality, and varieties of
experience;
a 're-constructive' culture;
functional culture in the sense of a culture designed to
produce certain results: Muzak, Gurdjeff's 'objective' music,
Wagner's Opera;
the culture of deconditioning - industrial music; cut-ups;
Theories of deconstructionist vs. the notion of
deconditioning;
Function and Dysfunction;
a symbiotic relation between intellect and emotion;
observance and enlightenment;
Merriam Webster's Dictionary (10th edition) defines functional and
culture as follows:
Functional: 2) used to contribute to the development or
maintenance of a larger whole
Culture: 5) a: the integrated pattern of human knowledge,
belief, and behaviour that depends upon man's [sic] capacity
for learning and transmitting knowledge to succeeding
generations.
When we wrote the above we were not thinking in terms of the Internet,
but in the sense of culture at large, everyday culture. Our culture, as
in North American generally, Canadian specifically. Is this culture we
live in functional? And to expand on the question using the above
examples , is it healthy? Positive? Negative? In the throes of
deconstructionist de-evolution? Capitalist implosion? You get the idea.
In what sense is, or is not, our culture functional? Bone Games never
answered that question (maybe not answering is in itself an answer?) and
I don't know that I can either, but I can muse on it for while·
In a very generalized and basic sense (which I will expand on), for the
majority of us, our culture works. That's good. But what about those
who, for what ever reason - I'm not arguing anyone's case here - slip
through the cracks of our culture and end up on the outside looking in.
Does our/their culture work for them? Or are they simply no longer
certified members of our culture but outcast, cultural waste as it is?
Or does it simply not matter seeing as the majority of us are OK and
there are always going to be a certain percentage of square pegs that
simply don't fit into our round cultural holes? I have a roof over my
head, food on my table, a healthy family, access to health care should
myself or my family need it, a house, car, computer, pet, etc. So is
that it? On that level has our/my culture been functional for me? It
serves me, and the vast many like me, as I/we serve it by being good,
productive members of our culture. Seems like a symbiotic relationship
with the individuals serving the whole as the whole serves the
individuals. I guess this could be termed functional in that generalized
and basic sense I mentioned earlier. But there are deeper questions
raised by this that I want to touch on before I go any further·
The first question this raises for me is just who in this culture am I
serving by being a productive member? In a Marxist sense I'm the flesh
appendage on the Machine which is Culture. But there are faces, human
faces, behind the mask of that machine and some of them are getting
filthy fucking rich of off my sweat. So is that symbiotic relationship I
mentioned really symbiotic or is it one of concealed
dependence/exploitation? The faces behind the Culture Machine actually
directly and indirectly control my fate to greater and lesser extents,
and they do so entirely with their own concerns and actions at heart. If
my employer decides to do what is in vogue corporately right now and
downsize, well then my safe comfortable existence is down the toilet. In
this sense I'm at the mercy of the Culture Machine as it is controlled
by powers beyond myself much as say, a squeegee kid is. Possibly even
more so as the squeegee kid has certain freedoms from living "outside"
of the cultural norm already. Is that what the symbiotic relationship
comes down to then, a trade off for both of us? I trade myself for
comfort and the squeegee kid trades comfort for· freedom? Funny how all
of sudden there are 256 shades of gray where there was only black and
white a moment ago·
So this brings me back to the question of whether or not this culture is
functional. Well, like I said, I have all the things that make my life
easier from this trade off of my labour but do I really? If I am a flesh
appendage at the mercy of the Culture Machine, and my comfort is a
fragile thing that is up to others discretion, then how much is gained
for me and my family from my labours? It seems to be an illusion to keep
me, and those like me, in line. A cultural opium for masses perhaps? It
almost looks as if those who have traded their comfort for freedom
(however that freedom is defined) are better off than I am· But then
again I wonder what I would say if I was that squeegee kid, or derelict,
or single parent in some inner city slums? Would I see it from the other
side saying how much I'd be willing to trade my freedom for comfort? But
none of these speculations answers the question at the heart of this
piece; is this, our culture, functional? Can it be functional when
looked at it from the above perspective? I don't know (I warned you that
I might not have any answers). Anyhow, let's move on and see what we
find.
If you look at the definitions of functional culture that we came up
with you will notice that each one of the definitions have a yin and
yang type balance to them. Function and dysfunction, industrial and
personal, unhealthy and healthy, reconstructive and deconstructive. Is
that what a functional culture seeks to achieve, a balance? 50% good,
50% bad. Isn't that what the above paragraph is talking about, the haves
and the have-nots? Is there a 50-50 balance between the halves and the
have-nots? What if it 60% have and 40% have-not, is the culture then
dysfunctional? Or is it dysfunctional if there are any have-nots? What
if everyone is a member of the have group? Is that functional? Is a
balance really important at all or is this whole piece just conditioning
on the my part in the way that I look at things through my mid 30's,
white male, educated (read biased) eyes? Always looking for comparisons,
equalities, statistical averages to measure against, to make sense of.
Or is simply that we only think we are in control of these complex
human/social/political systems. Personally I don't think we, or anyone
else, is. These systems have made the leap from theory to practice to a
true life form of their own, we're merely along for the ride.
Historically speaking, inequality is, does and will continue to happen
on a grand scale. And with an ironic twist it seems to happen even more
so within systems designed to, if not eliminate it, then at the very
least minimize it. Sounds pretty bleak and not at all functional but a
fairly accurate description...
Also mention in our definitions of functional culture were 'theories of
deconstructionist vs. the notion of deconditioning'. What exactly does
that mean? I don't even want to begin trying to figure out what we
actually meant in our intellectual gymnastics here. I mean as far as I'm
concerned that attempted definition is right up there with the term Post
Modernism. I could say that labeling something and attaching a theory to
it simply entangles one within those theories and labels and doesn't
really define anything. Of course by trying to define what we labeled as
functional culture I am doing just that. OK. Rather than working from
the what is functional culture angle, how about I say that I am
attempting to construct an objective observation of my culture by
deconstructing that very culture. No labels and limited theories. But,
and there is always a but, by doing so am I deconstructing the culture
or my own cultural conditioning? Uh oh, theory alert! I mean can I
really be an objective cultural observer without being completely bias
due to my own cultural conditioning? Is that an achievable goal from
within the culture in which I was raised? Or any culture for that
matter? I mean once you're living within the cultural you're trying
objectively observe, even if it's not the culture in which you were
raised, all objectivity is gone. I'll stop here as I feel a whirlpool
coming on·
If we were to deconstruct our culture would we really be able to
construe anything from the philosophical/political/social/textual shards
that would be scattered about? I mean anything that we don't already
know. Or should I have someone deconstruct this text and gather
information about my interpretations and conclusions, however objective
or not they are? Lot's of questions. Lot's and lot's of questions. Well,
like said at the beginning of this piece, I may not have any answers
myself, but I will conclude with this thought; on a purely personal
level, I believe functional culture to be an ideal that is not to be
obtained, but rather one that should always be striven for. For the
moment we stop reaching for it and say that we have not only defined
what it is, but are also ourselves, a functional culture, is the very
moment that we will cease to be just that. Now where's that whirlpool?
It's time for a dip.
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TAF READING LIST TO ESCORT YOU INTO THE MILLENNIUM
************************************************************************
This is by no means a comprehensive list but simply what I think is a
good starting point, some must haves for any collection. If you have
some titles you want add to the list send them to:
the_annihilation_fountain@iname.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TITLE AUTHOR(S) ISBN# PUBLISHER SYNOPSIS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Apocalypse
Culture is
compulsory reading
for all those
concerned with the
APOCALYPSE Adam Parfrey crisis of our
CULTURE Editor 0-922915-05-9 Feral House time...terminal
documents of the
20th century" -
J.G. Ballard.
"A Cultural
History of the Fin
De Sicle from the
CENTURY'S 990s through the
END Hillel Schwartz 0-385-24379-0 Doubleday 1990s". Excellent
history of the
ends of centuries.
"Random Essays &
Tracts Concerning
CRITICAL David Kereks Sex Religion
VISION & David Slater 0-9523288-0-1 Headpress Death"...and quite
Editors graphic to boot.
Very cool fringe
book (follow up to
Apocalypse
Culture) dealing
with everything
CULT RAPTURE Adam Parfrey 0-922915-22-9 Feral House from the Oklahoma
bombing to "sex
cults of the
physically
deformed".
Very interesting
read about the
history of the
first atomic bomb.
DAY OF The book was first
TRINITY Lansing Lamont 65-21705 Atheneum published in 1965
and my be hard to
find but is worth
looking for.
"Report from a
Culture on the
Brink". Very
interesting pop
DREAMS OF culture analysis
MILLENNIUM Mark Kingwell 0-670-86749-7 Viking of the age old
notion of
millennial
madness.
"An Illustrated
History of Death
KILLING FOR David Kereks Creation Film from Mondo to
CULTURE & David Slater 1-871592-20-8 Books Snuff". Some very
cool readings and
pix.
"A History of the
Last Thousand
Years". An
interesting pop
culture history
MILLENNIUM Felipe 0-684-80361-5 Scribner tracing the human
Fernndez-Armesto
journey as we
approach the the
big Y2K.
Somewhat watered
down review of
things unknown;
from ghosts to
MYSTERIES OF Time-Life Books Quality astrology to
THE UNKNOWN Editors 0-7835-4912-1 Paperback monsters. Some
Book Club nice pix. Not bad
for a book club
book.
Truely great
"counter culture"
book featuring
pieces by W.S.
Burroughs, Kathy
RAPID EYE 1 Simon Dwyer 1-871592-22-4Annihilation Acker,
Editor Press G.P-Orridge, Colin
Wilson, etc. Well
worth reading.
Excellent addition
to Rapid Eye 1
with articles by
many of the same
people from #1 and
more. The 2nd half
of the book is a
RAPID EYE 2 Simon Dwyer 1-871592-23-2Annihilation long piece by the
Editor Press editor entitled
"In the Jungle of
the Plague Yard"
which is great
reading.
More Rapid Eye
fun. Not quite as,
um...dark as the
RAPID EYE 3 Simon Dwyer 1-871592-24-0 Creation first two but
Editor Books still well worth
the read.
RE/SEARCH Interesting book
#4/5 - W.S. about some very
BURROUGHS, V. Vale RE/Search cool people. The
THROBBING & Andrea Juno 0-940642-05-0Publications Gysin stuff is
GRISTLE, Editors pretty neat.
BRION GYSIN
Just about
everyone I know in
RE/SEARCH R/L and online
#6/7 - V. Vale have this classic.
INDUSTRIAL & Andrea Juno 0-90642-07-7 RE/Search If you don't have
CULTURE Editors Publications it already run out
HANDBOOK right now, get
going, and buy it.
Interviews,
fiction,
non-fiction,
RE/SEARCH V. Vale bibliography, etc.
#8/9 - J. G. & Andrea Juno 0-940642-08-5 RE/Search Everything and
BALLARD Editors Publications anything about J.
G.
This is truely a
great, funny, eye
opening read about
"devious deeds and
mischievous
RE/SEARCH V. Vale mirth". Featuring
#11 - & Andrea Juno 0-940642-10-7 RE/Search the likes of
PRANKS! Editors Publications Timothy Leary,
Mark Pauline,
Henery Rollins,
Boyd Rice, Joe
Coleman, etc.
What can you say
about this all
time most talked
about RE/Search
RE/SEARCH V. Vale classic that
#12 - MODERN & Andrea Juno 0-940642-14-X RE/Search hasn't already
PRIMITIVES Editors Publications been said?. More
body modifications
than at first
imaginable...
This is one of my
personal favorites
in the RE/Search
group. Some truely
insightful
RE/SEARCH V. Vale interviews with
#13 - ANGRY & Andrea Juno 0-940642-24-7 RE/Search the liks of Kathy
WOMEN Editors Publications Acher, Diamanda
Gals, Lydia
Lunch, etc. Women
are much angrier
than men...
"Independent
Artists'
Networking - Other
Ground Works - Art
SENSORIA John Marriot - Articles -
FROM & Ich Neuman 1-895348-01-3 Mangajin Interviews -
CENSORIUM Editors Books Contacts" Great
book, worth
looking for.
"Ananthology of
Diverse
Perspectives -Art,
Fiction, Film,
Theory, Activism,
SENSORIA Photography,
FROM John Marriot Mangajin Journalism,
CENSORIUM & Ich Neuman 1-895348-03-X Books Comix". Much
VOLUME II Editors expanded and
slicker than #1
and really worth
reading.
This edition is
worth getting just
for the incredible
illustrations, not
to say there's
anything lacking
THE ATROCITY RE/Search in the reading.
EXHIBITION J. G. Ballard 0-940642-19-0Publications All around great
book. Re/Search
always does
justice to the
books they put
out.
Transcript of the
6 part PBS series.
Very interesting
THE POWER OF Joseph Campbell 0-385-24773-7 read about the
MYTH with Bill Moyers 0-385-24774-5 Doubleday central myths of
Humanity.
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CAFFEINE, EPHEDRINE, AND THE WENDY O. EXPERIENCE (FOR PAM)
by Pat Sherman
************************************************************************
A few weeks ago I was having a heavy dose of clutter anxiety.
So afflicted, I began rummaging through the house, scrapping
every fossil in my wake: old photos, books, clothes,
furniture, you name it - shit-can it. Buried deep in a box of
old torn T-shirts, one, no doubt, sealed since 1987, I came
across a well preserved Wendy O. Williams tour shirt. The
material held the heavy stench of dust and mildew, but I could
still detect an underlying hint of pot smoke. I was fixing to
toss it into the refuse with my Foxy Brown lunch pail, Light
of Day trading cards, Eve Plumb:Diary of a Teenage Runaway
video, and dog-eared Hazel O' Connor biography, when I was
stricken with the impulse to wear it - some nostalgic waft of
reverence. See, Wendy O. was more than a faze, she was a 110%
state of mind. For those who never experienced Wendy mania at
it's peak, let it suffice to say that Wendy O. mania lies far
beyond the boundaries of description. It was 1985. I was
living in Phoenix, drinking four pots of coffee per day, and
poised to drop out of school. Then I discovered the music and
mayhem of Wendy O. (I still dropped out of school, mind you,
but my life was about to take a scary turn . . .)
Let me start by saying that I'm a bi-sexual woman in her early
thirties. I wouldn't generally preface a story with this
information, but it might make certain things a little
clearer. Female rock stars have been my thing from the start.
In the forth grade, I masturbated and had my first period to a
poster of Ann and Nancy Wilson, of which I've never never been
ashamed. (I think it was the cover of Dreamboat Annie -
yowza!). In jr. high, I got drunk on Southern Comfort and
listened to Janis Jopin music with a vengeance. Soon after, I
bought some Patti Smith records from the cut out section at a
local drug store. I would fall asleep to side one of Wave, the
hypnotic Dancing Barefoot coaxing me to sleep over the
ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk of my broken turntable. In 1982,
Joan Jett brought me back to the world of guitar heavy
she-rock with her rowdy Bad Reputation. For the next three
years I lived on a steady diet of Joan Jett and Pretenders
music believing that it didn't get any better.
But, it did! It got harder and heavier and, to put it in Wendy's
own words, "Way over the edge!" One evening shortly after moving
to Phoenix, I was up all night watching USA television and
swilling Hills Brothers. There was this special on female
rockers, parade of the future has- beens, Lene Lovich and Kim
Wilde types. Then, I saw someone so out of control, so far gone,
that I was completely sucked in. That somebody was Wendy Orlean
Williams: Kommander of Kaos, High Priestess of metal. Scantily
clad Wendy, all muscle and mohawk, came at me in my living room,
plowing a school bus through a massive wall of t.v.'s. As if
that weren't enough, her next clip featured her driving a
speeding car off of a cliff. Just moments before the car was
to go over the edge, Wendy O. climbed onto a plane ladder and
the car exploded. I was totally pumped! The song, her brand
new metal anthem, It's My Life, went like this: my New Years
resolution is always the same, gonna do what I like, gonna do
what I want, and the hell with things -Yeah! I was hooked on
the Wendy O., sold on her angst-fueled message! In 1985, Wendy
O. Williams went farther than any woman or man in rock 'n'
roll. No one could touch her act for real life danger.
The next day, I went to Zia records and bought her first solo
album, W.O.W. Produced by Gene Simmons of Kiss, it was better
than I could've ever imagined. I played it over and over, loud
then louder still, until my neighbors called the police. I
didn't care. I kept on playing Wendy O. It was my duty. The
front cover of her album featured a shot of her on stage
wearing an inverted tool belt, white tank top, Brunswick
bowler wrist guards, and skimpy panties. The expression on her
face clearly said, 'don't mess with Wendy O.!' The name of the
first song was tattooed on her arm. It was a song that
challenged Joan Jett's position: I love sex and Rock 'n' Roll
- another unapologetic invitation to promiscuity. My boyfriend
was outraged by the blatant mockery of Jett's song. He tried
to talk me out of my O. Williams obsession with rumors of
Wendy's purported sexual liaisons with a jackhammer. "Sour
grapes," I'd say. The rumors only made me dig her more. Every
metal-head guy at school dreamed of screwing blonde bombshell
Wendy. My fantasy wasn't so much to be with her, as to
actually be her. A combination of coffee and a sky- high
estrogene level left me crawling the walls of my dad's
appartment in Scottsdale. I wanted to smash televisions,
chain-saw guitars, and drive convertibles into exploding
walls. I needed a big Wendy O. sized release!
"I'm an adrenaline freak," Wendy would say in interviews. In
one appearance on the short lived Joan River's show Wendy told
loud-mouth River's "I just never ever ever fit in." That's me
- I said. I can totally relate! Among other things, Wendy was
a self proclaimed health food junkie. Long before Henry
Rollins jumped on the bandwagon, Wendy professed to a drug
free, meat free, and weight training lifestyle. Wendy O.
became more than an entertainer, she was a way of life, and
now, my personal guru. I'd plug in the coffee pot, crank up
the Wendy O., and lift weights. My dad was growing concerned.
A voracious appetite for health fads led me to seek employment
at GNC, the 7-11 of health food stores. There, I became the
top dog in sales and an ephedrine addict.
Wendy O. Williams hailed from Rochester, New York. Out of high
school she received a scholarship to the prestigious Juliard
school of music for her saxophone playing. Wendy, however,
declined and hit the road. She hitched across the states to Los
Angeles where she worked as a macrobiotic cook. Wendy then took
off for Europe to study eastern philosophy, returning to New
York as a performer in a live sex show. It was there that she
met Rod Swenson. Together they formed the punk concept band,
the Plasmatics. The Plasmatics played CBGB's and other venues
on the east coast, receiving national recognition in 1978 for
Wendy's outrageously provocative stage attire. Wendy would come
out on stage dressed in lingerie with only electrical tape
covering her nipples. She'd frequently do encores in whipped
cream and a motorcycle hat. Wendy was inundated with news
coverage when she filed suit against the Milwaukee police
department, who arrested her after a show on indecent exposure
charges, and, while cuffed on the ground, proceeded to beat and
kick her.
It wasn't until Wendy began blowing up cars on stage that the
Plasmatics really took off (the first of these shows at New
York's Madison Square Gardens- promoted as see Wendy Trash
this 68 Coupe De Ville! - was a sell out). After defeating the
Milwaukee police department in court, Wendy O. demolished a
police car on the Dick Cavet show to her newest punk medley, a
pig is a pig. The Plasmatics changed line-up with each album.
Most of Wendy's outrageous videos were done in the Arizona or
Nevada desert. Her video for the Damned was filmed in the
desert outside of Scottsdale, and became known as the
powerlines, where friends and I would would hang out, drink
beer, and play Wendy O. music. The cover of The Plasmatic's
Beyond the Valley of 1984 features Wendy and bandmembers
horseback, with the Superstition Mountains in the background.
It was all happening in my own backyard! It may sound
demented, but somehow, it made Wendy O. accessible.
I liked her solo album so much that I decided to dig back into
her early days with the Plasmatics. I bought New Hope For the
Wretched on blood splatter vinyl, but it took longer to get
into than her solo material.. The only other solo project
Wendy had out was a mini cassette available through her fan
club. I had to send check or money order for it. I remember my
mother, much to her chagrin, writing a check payable to
Jackhammer records. I wasn't sure if she had heard the rumors,
or if something in the fan club advertisement triggered an
alarm. The tape was called Fuck and Roll live! It featured a
cover of Motorhead's song Rock 'n' Roll, on which Wendy
changed the lyrics to fuck and roll. The pinnacle of the tapes
trashiness comes in a song called Ain't none of your business,
where Wendy stops and does this monologue (which, I still
remember word for word):
"You know sometimes I'm walking down the street and
these straight guys come up to me. Yeah, they got
their jackets and ties. That's their little outfit
of the day. And they got their ever so shinny shoes
on. Yeaaaaah, sometimes they vary their outfits a
little bit and they've got their shirts all opened
up so you can see the....shit load of gold
chaaaaaains around their neck. Yeaaaaah . . ., and
they're always walking down the street going ' I'm
straight, everybody else is fucked up but not me,
no, I'm straight'. You ever notice that straight
people got this certain posture about them. It
doesn't matter if their standing up or their sitting
down. They all got this - pooooosture. That's
because, every fucking straight person I ever met,
comes complete with a banana stuck up the old
asshole. Yeah, that's right - they all come complete
with the old banana implant!"
Soon after I got the tape my friend Pam came to visit from
Detroit. Pam had been my closest friend since grade school. We
were inseparable through high school, until I made the move
out west in the middle of my junior year. We saw eye to eye on
many levels - especially in the backseat of my car - but Pam
was not a women in rock devotee. She'd mock my affliction for
female rockers every chance she could. It was cool though, Pam
was my best friend. "At least it's not Pat Benetar," she would
say.
Wendy, however, was a phenomena even Pam couldn't deny. She
loved that fuck 'n' roll bit just as much as I did! The thing
that was so cool about Wendy's shtick was that the word
straight could be taken to mean, conservative, drug- free,
up-tight, or heterosexual. It pissed people off
indiscriminately! Pam and I made several copies of it which we
brought to local shopping malls. We'd pop it into a cassette
deck at the stereo/video store - which ever component was
closest to the mall - and let her rip. By the time the
flustered sales clerk would dash over to turn it off, Wendy
would be halfway through her monologue, spewing obscenities
through the mall and into the consciousness of middle class
America. We were proud of our devious stunt. At parties We'd
amuse friends with Wendy O. standup. In once such performance,
we went so far as to take an axe to my old black and white
television set. Wendy used to say that society was callused to
rape and violence, but if you destroyed personal property,
especially society's sacred television, that was asking for
trouble. I was stoked to be reunited with Pam, my partner in
crime, and coaxed her to stay on.
Pam decided to stay in Phoenix, so we got a small apartment
for two hundred and fifty dollars a month. It was an old
building with a prolific bug populous. Pam used to catch bugs
and keep them in an empty Smucker's jars. She said they all
came crawling to Wendy's music, dubbing Wendy the 'pied piper
of cockroaches'. Pam and I became lovers. Although we were
never exclusive with one another - I still liked to date guys
- our bond was much deeper than sex.
Meanwhile, I couldn't have been happier with my job at GNC. My
boss needed time off and gave me run of the place. Pam kept me
company. We'd listen to Wendy O. and hang out all day. Pam
would put price stickers all over her face and hands and stalk
the jewelry store across the mall. Performance was her forte.
Pam would be escorted out of the mall kicking and screaming by
security guards, and I would sneak her back in through the
service corridor.
I was more than eager to push the products I so thoroughly
believed in. Especially the herbal stimulants. I was taking
between fifteen and thirty supplements a day, including
ginseng, guranna, bee pollen, kola nut, and yohimbe bark. My
favorite, by far, were Excel pills. The main ingredient in
Excel pills, the Chinese herb Ma Huang, is today, found in
products like Herbal Ecstasy and Sudaphed. Ma Huang is a
source of the drug ephedrine, which is used in making
methamphetamine. Some Ephedrine products are like a watered
down version of a methamphetamine high. At the time, I thought
it was the healthiest thing on earth. I had more energy than
I'd had in my life. It felt as if I could have taken on the
world and it's problems single handedly. However, there was
one problem that was bigger than my herbal ego. Pam had been
battling heroin addiction. She had initially come to Phoenix
to sober up. While I was busy at GNC, I'd give Pam the car so
she could job hunt. She never found work. The closest she got
was a false sense of hope from the Red Lobster. I
later
learned that she'd been spending her days downtown at the
methadone clinic. I tried to turn her on to wheat-grass juice
and Excel pills, but it didn't have the same impact on her.
She was in a bad way and not me, my pep pills, nor Wendy O.
was going to change that. I felt like a failure, angry with
Pam, and myself. Internalizing my frustration, I never
realized that, as an addict in my own right, I didn't know how
to help her. Pam left town with my Fuck 'n' Roll tape, and I
moved back in with my dad.
In fall of 1986, while I was in rehab, Wendy released her
second solo effort, Kommander of Kaos. As Wendy assured, 'it
ran me over like a bulldozer, and had me down on the floor
barking!, like a dog.' More than anything, though, Wendy now
reminded me of Pam. I felt a great loss without her. We talked
a few times after she left Phoenix, but we finally lost touch
when she moved to Windsor, where drugs were plentiful. Shortly
after the release of the Kaos album, Wendy stared in a John
Waters type flick, Reform School Girls. I remember I took a
hot high- school cheerleader I'd been seeing on opening night.
In one classic scene warden Pat Ast says to Wendy, "Charlie,
your just a stupid kid from Cleveland, a shit stain on the
panties of life."
Wendy's retort: "You should know, you lick 'em every night!"
Through the course of the movie, I could see repulsion in my
dates eyes. Finally, during a scene where Charlie Chandlers
(AKA Wendy) rapes and brands a defenseless prison debutante,
my date fled the theater. I didn't run after her, she took a
cab home.
My dad was outraged that I had let my obsession with Wendy O.
Williams frighten another girl away. My father, having seen a
trailer for the movie in Playboy, said "what kind of a woman
would wear a shirt that says fuck 'n' roll or fuck me?"
"No dad," I said, as if defending her honor, "It says fuck 'n'
roll or fuck off!" The movie wasn't spectacular, not even by
camp standards, but at the time I believed Wendy would win an
academy award for her performance: 'for the best dramatic
portrayal of an incarcerated woman, the award goes to . . .
Wendy O.!!!' It's the only time I've ever watched an awards
show.
By the time Wendy O. did her Plasmatics reunion album,
Maggots: the Record, I was getting pretty sketchy. I had
graduated from the fourteen pack to the hundred size bottle of
Excel pills. While I used to turn the customers on from my own
stash, I was too greedy now to share. I hoarded all the
customer samples for myself. I'd ransack my car in the hopes
of finding a stray Excel capsule that had fallen behind the
seat six months earlier. One day, in a drug hungry frenzy, I'd
crammed my fists under the seat and pulled out Pam's old
mottled bra. I wept.
To keep myself busy, I worked out at World Gym sometimes three
hours a day, six days a week. The Excel killed my appetite so
instead of gaining muscle, I was losing weight. Ironically, in
recent photos of Wendy, the same thing appeared to be
happening to her. It seemed both Wendy and I were on our own
downward spirals. My nerves were shot to hell. I began pulling
really stupid stunts. I'd run red lights blaring my horn,
under the influence of Wendy O. In the middle of the night,
I'd wake up and go for five-mile jogs in my leather jacket. I
was losing sleep, I was losing my mind. Then, opening the New
Times one day, I saw salvation in sight. Wendy O. was coming
to town. Her gig was going to be at the Mason Jar, a real dive
- yet, up close and personal!
In an effort to get my life back on track, I signed up for
real estate classes and gave up coffee. It appeared as if I
might be coming around. The night Wendy was originally slated
to play, she canceled. I found out through the promoters that
she had come down with pneumonia. I wondered how that could
be, her being so health conscious and all. That night the
Plasmatics played without Wendy. I didn't go. Instead, I tried
to find out which local hospital she was at. I drove to all of
them, one by one, posing as her daughter, to no avail.
Soon after, I received word that Pam had lost her bout with
heroine. A vital part of me felt as if it had died with her,
the part that taught me to go with life's little inanities, the
part that taught me to feed from the trough of madness, the Pam
part. I was completely numb. To this day I don't think there's
been a soul that perceives this screwed-up planet in as
enlightened a fashion as Pam did. I find I am constantly
recanting to Pam's life to rekindle my creative spark. I didn't
have any money for Greyhound fare, so I missed Pam's funeral in
Detroit.
Two weeks later, the rescheduled Wendy show happened. After
pumping myself with Excel and coffee, I was ready to rock. I
got to the club early and had a hard time sitting still. I was
too restless. I tried to study the sample questions for my
real estate exam, but it was no use, I kept thinking about
Pam. After a while, a worm in a Wendy O. shirt came in and sat
down with his friends. He could have easily passed for Jerry
Lewis' Buddy Love, stringy black hair, Nutty Professor glasses
and all. The lot of them looked like three thugs on paint
thinner. I didn't feel like company, but the place wasn't
filling up, and I needed to talk to someone. After a few brief
words, I found out that Buddy had met Wendy when she was in
town with the Plasmatics (she'd done an appearance at Circles
records). We started talking and one thing led to another.
Soon I was outside in a car doing lines with Buddy Love and
his friends. We talked about Wendy O., rock 'n' roll, and the
meaning of life in Phoenix - a moot subject. Buddy worked for
the Phoenix Gazette, which as an aspiring writer, intrigued
me. We were parked out back of the Jar. We sat there talking
as the sun set over a Burger King and night enveloped, what I
liked to call, the Valley of the Rednecks. I felt as if I'd
know these guys forever, but I guess cocaine does that.
Sometime in the midst of our conversation, I offered one of
the guys a blow-job to pass the time. Buddy and his other
friend continued their conversation in the front seat, giving
furtive glances into the rear-view mirror, under the false
impression that they were next. Then, as the windows were
starting to fog over (in Phoenix, yeah, it's a stretch), and
this guy was getting ready to pop, we all heard the froggy
throated Wendy speak. Looking up, I saw that her voice was
coming from a small barred window in the back of the club. We
sat in silence and listened as she spoke of the elements of
her diet. "Apricots, raspberries, wheat germ oil. . ." I don't
remember it all, but it got us fired up. Then we saw her
tattooed silhouette in the window, just a glance, but you
could clearly see her new back tattoo. It was a large blue
eagle with a rattlesnake in it's talons, encircled by the
words: 'United Federation of the Universe'. I caught the back
of Wendy's head as her frail tattooed arm drew the shade. We
smoked a couple joints after that, and the other guys went
inside. I sat there a few moments longer with the frat-boy I'd
just given oral to, trying to sort through things in my mind.
For the most part, I was vehemently opposed to drug use. I'd
especially been turned off seeing my Pam taken down on smack.
I can only say that I was determined to celebrate Pam's life
in the most appropriate and ignorant way possible that night:
wasted at a Wendy O. concert. Anyway, what harm could a slight
fit of recidivism do? I felt I had justification: between my
sorrow and the Wendy O. rush I felt, I was on an e-ticket
rollercoaster ride!
By the time Wendy walked out on stage to her thrash opera from
the Maggots album, I was wired for sound. Even in the midst of
my synthetic state of awareness, I could see that Wendy looked
like death warmed over. Her face and lips were withered, her
eyes sunk back in her head. She looked like somebody's
grandmother. I have pondered many theories as to the nature of
her health status that night and to this day have seen little
evidence that Wendy O. William's still walks this earth.
The band was ultra tight. What Wendy lacked in appearance, she
made up for in sheer effort. I felt bad for her, the house
only half full. Still, what little audience she had, she took
complete control over. Wendy grabbed the mic and proclaimed,
"death to whimp rock!" I was hypnotized as Wendy stalked her
audience. Strutting around the stage, lips pursed, butt in the
air, she ran through a set of solo and Plasmatic material,
each one a favorite. At one point Wendy challenged the
audience to define the word Propagator, the name of a song
from the Maggots album. Despite Wendy's emaciated condition, I
don't think she could have given a more cogent delivery to
Masterplan if she'd had a bionic diaphragm: "You had it made,
you had it made, but you blew it all away!" I had never
realized just how astute Wendy's words were. At one point, a
guy to the left of the stage blew smoke in Wendy's face. Wendy
reacted with pure instinct, kicking that asshole mother-fucker
in the side of the head! It had to hurt, she was wearing her
industrial strength combat boots. Bouncers dragged the guy out
screaming as the band hammered into the next O. William's
aria: here, Wendy chainsawed a guitar in half. She began to
jog in place, knees thrust high. Wendy's headbanging increased
in velocity, her blonde ponytail thrashing about as if Barbara
Eden herself were summoning the destruction of all humanity.
Her boobs convulsed in a leather brazier as she sang, "fuck
that booty, fuck that booty, work that muscle!" I knew that
instant Pam was in the room with me. Soon after, Wendy belched
out Butcher Baby, Pam's favorite Plasmatics song.
Although it had a metal edge to it, I knew Wendy's career was
finished when she broke into her new rap act. I wasn't buying
it for a second. It was an imminent flop, not the kind of
music you walked on the wing of a plane to. I couldn't fathom
her skydiving naked to techno drums and scratching. "Perfect
hard-ons," she rapped, "perfect breasts. No B.O. no PMS, It's
lies all lies it's lies." The only thing Wendy's rap inspired
me to do was come back to reality and complete my education.
After the gig, Wendy and her crew drove off in a Hertz van.
She did not stick around to greet the handful of fans waiting
by the back door, myself included.
Leaving the Mason Jar, I took a short cut and ended up in a
bad part of town, somewhere in the proximity of Roosevelt and
Washington. By day, I knew these streets well enough to find
City Court where I'd gone to pay speeding tickets. By night it
was alien territory. I stopped to ask a prostitute directions,
but she didn't seem to know her bearings any better than I
did. She jumped in my car and it took me over an hour to
convince her that I didn't require her professional services.
"Oh, come on. You can pretend I'm Wanda O., it wont cost a
dime extra," she pleaded. I was still wired and my ears were
ringing. After driving around the same city block five times I
eased over to the curb. It didn't take long till I realized
where I was. I was parked in front of the methadone clinic. In
an instant of rage I vowed that one last statement needed to
be made. This was not a Wendy O. statement, but a personal
one. I was going to burn that son-of-a-bitchen meth clinic
down, once and for all! I was all set to siphon gas from my
car, ready to do the deed. Miraculously, after searching
through the weeds and trash strewn lawn of the clinic, I was
unable to produce a suitable gas container: not a beer bottle,
rusted coffee can, milk carton, nothing. I lost my courage
when a police car drove by and flashed its lights. The
remainder of the evening I spent at Denny's, committing my
real estate questions to memory.
Today, I allow myself one cup of caffeinated coffee in the
morning, usually savored to the stimulating conversation of
Regis and Kathy Lee. I have strongly considered joining others
in the fight to ban ephedrine from the marketplace. I never
bought Wendy's rap album, and I don't know what has become of
her.
ADDENDUM: Ms. O. William's has officially ended her reign as
rock and roll's queen of schlock to pursue gainful employment
with a natural foods distributor at an undisclosed location in
New England. She has expressed no interest in being contacted
by her fans. Should you happen to bump into her one day,
scooping natural yogurt from a bulk bin, simply worship her
from afar. She has 'been to hell and back'.
ADDENDUM II:< April 7, 1998 FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Wendy O. WiIliams Lead Singer of the Plasmatics Passes Away
Storrs, CT -- Wendy O. Williams lead singer of the radical and
influential punk-metal Plasmatics died Monday night, April 6
of a self-inflicted gun shot wound to the head.
The outspoken and style-setting singer, who was found dead by
Plasmatics' co-founder and manager Rod Swenson, was
forty-eight years old. The Plasmatics, founded in 1978, rose
to fame from sensational beginnings at CBGB's in New York City
where Wendy and the band were known for fast aggressive music
and on stage theatrics which included Wendy's regular
chain-sawing of guitars and the detonation of speaker
cabinets. After inking a record deal with Stiff records they
rapidly grew to large venues where the "queen of shock rock,"
as she came to be known, expanded the theatrical repertoire to
include blowing up cars on stage and collapsing lighting
trusses. After having a show banned in London in 1979 the
group retuned to New York, were helicoptered onto a New York
pier where, in front of some 20,000 people after playing a
short set, Wendy drove a cadillac into a stage loaded with
explosives jumping out of the car seconds before it hit the
stage and car and stage blew up. The band made numerous TV
appearances inclubing two on Tom Snyder's "Tomorrow" Show
where they also blew up a car in the studio. Among other
things, the band is generally credited with bringing the
mohawk haircut to rock'n roll. Wendy being the first
high-profiled woman to wear a mohawk, and with her carefully
shredded clothing was voted to People Magazine's Best Dressed
List. She was also nominated for a grammy award as Best Female
Rock Singer. The band, which in an early review Billboard
magazine said "makes Kiss look like greasy kid stuff" toured
from 1978 until 1988. Ironically, Gene Simmons of Kiss would
later produce one of three Wendy O. Williams solo albums in
1982. Other notable pairings included a speed-metal cover of
Tammy Wynette's "Stand By Your Man" with lead singer for the
UK's number one speed metal band Motorhead.
Yesterday, in Storrs, CT, Rod Swenson, who had been Wendy's
significant other for more than twenty years, returned from
shopping to the wooded area where the two had lived since
moving to Connecticut from New York. He found a package that
Wendy had left him with some special noodles he liked, a
packet of seeds for growing garden greens, some oriental
massage balm, and sealed letters from Wendy. The suicide
letters which included a "living will" denying life support, a
love letter to Swenson, and various lists of things to do set
Swenson searching the woods looking for her. After about an
hour, and after it was almost dark, he found the body in woods
near an area where she loved to feed the wildlife. Several nut
shells were on a nearby rock where she had apparently been
feeding some of the squirrels before she died. Swenson checked
the body for a pulse, and there was none. A pistol lay on the
ground nearby, and he returned to the house to call the local
authorities. "Wendy's act was not an irrational in-the-moment
act," he said, she had been talking about taking her own life
for almost four years. She was at home in the peak of her
career, but found the more ordinary 'hypocrisies of life' as
she called them excruciatingly hard to deal with. In one sense
she was the strongest person I have ever known, and in
another, a side which most people never saw, the most
vulnerable. She felt, in effect, she'd peaked and didn't care
to live in a world in which she was uncomfortable, and below
peak any longer. Speaking personally for myself, I loved her
beyond imagination. She was a source of strength, inspiration,
and courage. The pain at this moment in losing her is
inexpressible. I can hardly imagine a world without Wendy
Williams in it. For me such a world is profoundly diminished."
One of the suicide notes Wendy left read as follows:
"The act of taking my own life is not something I am doing
without a lot of thought. I don't believe that people should
take their own lives without deep and thoughtful reflection
over a considerable period of time. I do believe strongly,
however, that the right to do so is one of the most
fundamental rights that anyone in a free society should have.
For me much of the world makes no sense, but my feelings about
what I am doing ring loud and clear to an inner ear and a
place where there is no self, only calm. Love always, Wendy."
Wendy asked that no flowers be sent, but those who would like
to make a donation in her memory can do so to: The Quiet
Corner Wildlife Center, 109 Ashford Center Road, Ashford, CT
06276.
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CONTRIBUTORS TO THIS ISSUE...
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DR. HUGO DE GARIS obtained a B.Sc. (Hons) in Applied Mathematics and
Theoretical Physics at Melbourne University, Victoria, Australia, in 1970.
He moved to the UK where he was a supervisor (instructor) to the
mathematics undergraduates of Cambridge University. He then joined Philips
in Holland and Belgium as a software and hardware architect, covering most
branches of computer science. Growing bored with industry, he switched
careers to do research at Brussels University, where he finished a PhD in
Artificial Intelligence and Artificial Life. de Garis has published some
50 papers and book chapters. He met Professor Ryszard Michalski (of George
Mason University, GMU) at a French University in 1988, and was invited by
him to spend 6 months at the GMU AI Center. A year later de Garis was made
a senior research affiliate of GMU.
From February 1993, de Garis has been the head of the Brain Builder Group
in the Evolutionary Systems Department at ATR labs in Kyoto Japan. The aim
is to use Cellular Automata Machines (CAMs) to grow/evolve a billion
neuron artificial brain at electronic speeds, using state of the art
evolvable hardware which can update CA cells at over 100 Billion a second,
and evolve neural network modules in less than a second. The name of this
research effort is the "CAM-Brain Project", which will continue until
2001. It is de Garis's ambition to see his brain building work grow into a
major Japanese effort equivalent to America's NASA moon shot. See de
Garis's extensive web site for details on the "CAM-Brain project".
PAT SHERMAN is a freelance writer and founding member of the San Diego
Urgent Writers. Pat also writes music music pieces for the San Diego
Reader, and is currently working on a novel, the Psychology of Subservient
Behavior.
JOE TOMORROW is Joe Tomorrow.
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The Annihilation Fountain & TAF Copyright c 1997-99 Neil MacKay
http://www.capnasty.org/taf/
the_annihilation_fountain@iname.com
