"I Think, Therefore I Ant."
July 25
This Week’s Featured Album:
Geraldine and Ricky
Trees Talk Too!
Liner Notes.
All Material by Geraldine and Ricky
* Unless Noted
Recorded Live at The Belleview
Hospital for the Insane
Side One:
1. Good Wood
2. My Hand’s Up Your Ass (And My Fingers Are Covered In Splinters)
3. Everyone Says I’m Crazy (To Love You)
4. Let Me Do The Talking
5. Shut Up Dummy
6. Trees Talk Too! (Crazy Bedlam Dance Mix)
7. Geraldine (If You Love Me, You Will Kill People!)
Side Two:
1. My Split Personality
2. Ventriloquism – Art Form of the Future
3. Once Again, The Children Are Crying
4. Notes on Ricky’s Schizophrenia, Extreme Paranoid Tendencies, Repetition
Compulsion, and His Many Other Mental Disorders *(written by Dr. Seymour
Rabinovitz)
5. The Bitch Wears White *(written by Ricky)
6. Do The Lobotomy *(written by Dr. Seymour Rabinovitz)
7. No More Voices (In My Head) *(written by Ricky and Frank Sinatra)
In my many years as a
clinical psychoanalyst, I had come across thousands of bizarre and disturbing
cases, yet none of them was ever so troubling and freakishly weird as the
split-personality case of Geraldine and Ricky. (Or Ricky and Geraldine,
depending on whom you talked to.)
Ricky and Geraldine were
brought to my office by their traumatized and severely alcoholic parents. They
claimed that Geraldine and Ricky’s relationship, while initially cute and
funny, was now bordering on the “weird and scary.” It was also implied
that the two had begun to “hurt people.” While drinking from a flask,
their mother blurted out that they shared a bed and were involved in
“unnatural activities” together. I promised to do what I could.
Right off the bat it
became apparent that Ricky was the dominant aggressor in the relationship. He
insulted me, broke my office lamp and swore like a turret’s victim.
Geraldine, for her part, tended to smile vacantly and look glassy eyed. The
fact that Ricky constantly referred to her as a “dumb bitch” and a
“controlling whore” demonstrated just how conflicted he was about
Geraldine, and her role in his life. The fact that his hateful words seemed to
have no impact on Geraldine whatsoever allowed me to conclude that she was the
“enabler” in this relationship, and, I suspected, probably also very
passive aggressive.
The first thing I did was
have them committed. I then began to creatively mix and prescribe mind-bending
drugs that would cure them. Large doses of powerful hallucinogenics would be
required! Ricky really seemed to take to them and talked endlessly about all
the “cool colors, man!” whereas Geraldine became listless and started
sprouting mustache hairs. I would
need to rethink my methodology.
My next brainstorm was to
put them in straightjackets and separate them. Again, the results were not
what I had hoped for. Ricky became silent and lay in the corner, inert,
refusing to eat, move, breath or talk, while Geraldine began forming an
extremely unhealthy relationship with a wooden chair.
One late night, while sitting in my office drinking and masturbating in
moderation, I finally arrived at what would ultimately be the perfect therapy
to help these two troubled souls slay their mental demons and find peace of
mind: Lobotomies all round!
Later, my secretary suggested that instead of carving out small pieces of
their frontal lobes, maybe I should encourage them to record an album. She
noted that I could then analyze the resulting creation and search for
psychological clues in the words that might serve as the root source and
foundations of their mental disorder. Since I couldn’t find my lobotomy
scalpel, I decided to go this route. Perhaps it might prove to be therapeutic.
The result was Geraldine
and Ricky’s “Trees Talk Too!” a combination of traditional gypsy music,
talk-therapy and ventriloquism comedy with some clinical observations by me.
I obtained some intriguing
insights into the brains of both of them through the material. It was obvious
that Ricky was the creative visionary whereas Geraldine was simply the
straight woman and Ricky’s goonish plastic-haired sidekick. Of course I had
to keep a lid on some of Ricky’s “artistic concepts.” His idea to have
Geraldine strip would have excited the other patients far too much, and there
was no way in hell the two of them were going to perform a “live sex
show.”
As the creative power
struggle became more enhanced between the two, so did their hopes of recovery.
Geraldine often talked of a sock puppet from her childhood that she wouldn’t
mind revisiting and Ricky began working on a solo stand-up comedy act about
insanity, wood products and his immense dislike of carpenters and termites.
By the time the album was
recorded (live, at our very own Belleview Hospital for the Insane) a rift
between the two had formed that would never be mended.
Shortly after the album
was recorded, Ricky met me for a private consultation and admitted that the
time had come to give up the “unhealthy act of ventriloquism” and “get
on with life.” He told me had discarded his puppet, Geraldine, and as far as
he was concerned I could toss her into the incinerator.
I asked him if he didn’t
want to have the Geraldine dummy as a keepsake (this was a test!), but he told
me it would just be an unpleasant memory of his troubled mental times. He was
free of the dummy and happier for it... I had solved the case!
I congratulated Ricky on
his incredible breakthrough and then when he wasn’t looking, I gave him a
lobotomy (I can’t help myself!) and sent him on his way.
I’m proud to say that Ricky is now a functioning member of society and a
small-time criminal and a petty thug at worst.
Geraldine, of course, was
nothing more than a stuffed puppet made of wood shavings, foam, glue, plastic,
and cheap pinewood. However she sits on an honored place on my office
bookshelf. Sometimes when I look into her glassy eyes I swear she almost looks
human...
Dr. Seymour Rabinovitz
Belleview Hospital for the
Insane (1972)
Cover photo: Hans the Orderly ©
1972 Bedlam Records
Tom Cruise Insanity Watch
Today: Guarded
(Check Back For Daily Updates)
EXCLUSIVE: GETTING INSIDE
CHURCH OF
SCIENTOLOGY
Part III of Avery Ant’s story of going
undercover inside the spaced out world of The Church of Scientology.
“Parts I & II can be read at:
AverysJournaljuly23.htm
AverysJournaljuly24.htm
IT'S 9am, I’ve just been hosed down again and injected with more serum.
Honeysuckle looks at me with a mixture of contempt and pity and yet she
somehow still manages to maintain her vacant smile and dead eyes. She tells
me I'm depressed, anxious and nervous. She says I’m wingy, dingy, nutty,
fruity, kooky, loopy, and poopy. She has analyzed the results from my
personality test and the contents in my pants.
But there is a way for me to confront my problems: Scientology! The truth
is, other than the fact that she has all my money and banking information
and that I haven’t slept for more than 2 hours in the past couple of days,
I have no worries at present and have never suffered from depression. I’ve
always considered myself an outgoing, confident stud, whereas the test
results insist that I'm inhibited, repressed, and also a “total
homosexual.” Hmm, maybe this will be my chance to meet Tom...
I'm introduced to a more
senior woman called “Neptune 3” and told she will be able to help me.
I'm not asked if I want to be helped – and so I politely inform Neptune 3
that I’ll be leaving now. She tells me I’m free to go, IF, I can get
break free from her hammerlock wrestling hold.
After pinning me to the ground and twisting my leg behind my neck, she says
she wants to set my life straight as it's in disarray. I’m not sure if
she’s referring to the pretzel position she has me twisted into or my
alleged homosexuality. I finally say “Uncle Ron” and she releases me
from her grip.
Within five minutes there’s a gun jammed in my back and I'm signing up to
a $499.50 Dianetics course - and after a quick snack break (3 dried noodles
and a animal cracker) I'm led upstairs to a small classroom and chained to a
desk.
An Icelandic man and an
elderly Romanian crone are softly crying while poring over textbooks and
filling in answers. A supervisor called “Ernst 13” with a patch on one
eye and riding crop scares the hell out of all of us.
I'm taught that the church believes a person is made up of their
"thetan", mind and body. The thetan is the person's spirit and
never dies - it merely uses the mind and body as a vehicle. When I question
this whole “thetan” nonsense, Ernst the evil supervisor tells me that if
I don’t fall in line quickly they will have me killed. When I counter with
“but my thetan will still live, right?” I am slapped across the face and
injected with more drugs. They seem to help calm me down...
I'm introduced to a new supervisor called “Vapor 6” a short man with
glasses who smells like an old chimpanzee. He commands us to begin studying
and then informs us that picture books, wooden building blocks and pebbles
are on hand in case we can't understand something.
Studying is from 9am to 6pm. At noon a bucket is brought out and Vapor 6
tells us that if we are good, one day we will be allowed to urinate into it.
Until then we are cryptically ordered to “suck it up.” A poor young lad
beside me cannot hold it in. He whimpers and urinates himself. Vapor 6
presses a button and soon two men in hoods drag the terrified and screaming
fellow out. I never see him again.
Later, a chain is put around my neck and I and several other new recruits
are ushered down into a basement cinema to watch a glossy film about
Scientology. It stars successful actress Kirstie Alley. She tells us how
Scientology has helper her. As best as I can tell, it’s helped her put on
about 300 pounds.
The film blames other religions for the materialism of mankind and the
destruction of the planet. Ironically, it also focuses on Hubbard's
commercial success and the fortune he made. He is even compared to Buddha
and Superman.
It's recommended I buy seven essential books, as well as DVDs. Total cost
$5000. I begin to object and point out the hypocrisy of Scientologists
blaming other religions of materialism while bleeding me financially dry,
but suddenly Kirstie Alley is in the room!
She begins pointing at certain recruits with a hungry look in her eye
and barking orders at the staff.
“I’ll take him, and her, she looks nice and beefy, and ooooh, that
chubby guy looks like a tasty one, lots of juicy tenderloin on him."
She yells as the supervisors follow her frightening and inconceivable
orders. "Hurry up and get them shaved and down to 'Butchery 101' pronto
to have them prepared. And make it snappy, I’m barbecuing tonight and
I’m hungry,” she says.
I try to escape, but I’m too weak. I collapse on the floor. It is nice and
cool. The screams of my fellow recruits are the last thing I hear before
everything goes black.
TOMORROW: THINGS GET WEIRD...
Your
Horoscope:
Aries:
Decision-making is hampered by the fact that you really don’t have any
important decisions to make. This is the upside of failure!
Taurus:
Pluto’s machinations are making you feel small and insignificant. However
his Margaritas are getting you nice and hammered.
Gemini: With the right attitude, blah, blah, blah...
Cancer: You can smell the scent of fresh hope in the air, oh wait,
that’s just the Febreze.
Leo: See above.
Virgo: You will get run over by a large herbivorous mammal. Hey, it
had to happen sooner or later, right?
Libra: You have the guile of a money
grubbing tightwad and the personal hygiene of a money grubbing tightwad.
Scorpio: Neptune is turning your anxiety into delusional fears. Proceed
slowly to the nearest mental health center and have yourself committed.
Sagittarius: If you find someone’s criticism annoying then push them
into oncoming traffic. There, problem solved!
Capricorn: You will choke on a fortune cookie.
Aquarius: A light has appeared in your tunnel. It is a train and it is
heading straight for you.
Pisces: You will continue to view nerts as a slang term used to
express disgust and contempt. And well you should.
Corporate Fool
INT.
OFFICE -- DAY
GUS
is behind a desk in his posh downtown office.
His daughter NANCY paces in front of his desk.
NANCY:
Dad, when I agreed to come to work for you it
was with the understanding that I'd be taken seriously -- that you give
serious consideration to my suggestions.
GUS:
Alright, Nancy, I get the point...show me your little report.
NANCY:
Look, Dad, I've been working on this for three months, so don't just write it
off, okay? It's all there in
black and white: the filtration system needs a complete overhaul.
GUS:
Come on, honey, don't be silly...that idea
will cost a fortune.
NANCY:
It would be money well spent dad. Besides,
I don't think we have a choice. So,
what do you say?
GUS:
I need another opinion.
NANCY:
Dad, please, trust me on this. I
know what I'm talking about.
Gus
presses an intercom button.
GUS:
Helen, have the Knave come hither.
NANCY:
Knave?
GUS:
Yes, David Flak.
NANCY:
Who's he?
GUS:
My Fool...you know, like in Shakespeare.
All the kings had them.
NANCY:
A Fool? Look,
dad, don't you think that given the cash flow problems we have that hiring
yourself some comic sidekick is just a little self indulgent?
GUS:
Nancy, this company is like my Fiefdom, and I
am its ruler, or Fief, if you will. And as such, I think I'm entitled to a few pleasures.
Besides, if Ed Gorman at vacu-waste can afford a corporate fool, I can
too.
DAVID
FLAK, the corporate fool enters. He
is dressed in medieval fool costume and leaps about manically.
FOOL:
Greeting my lord, alack, alas. Shall
I sing or prithee dance? Or speak a very naughty rhyme. Tell me and I'll waste
no time.
NANCY:
This is utterly ridiculous.
FOOL:
S'blood. Who is this lass who
stands by you -- the lead from The Taming of the Shrew?
GUS:
Ha ha...cut it out Fool, that's my daughter
you're talking about and this is no time for jokes -- though he really nailed
you there, huh Nancy? Fool, I
need your advice.
FOOL:
Beware! He
who turns to fools for thought, should not be teaching but instead be taught.
Still, if it pleases you to ask, I shall throw myself upon the task.
NANCY:
You can't seriously be thinking of asking him,
dad. What does he know about this
company? What does he know about
anything?
FOOL:
It's true I do indeed know naught, but that is
often quite a lot. Do not my education shun, for I took Shakespeare 101.
GUS:
Fool...see these blueprints? I
have some toxins held up here...now our filtration plant is, well, some
bleeding heart pansies who like to make a big deal of toxic waste say it's not
quite up to scratch.
FOOL:
The poison place where people cry. And not
from two, but from three eyes?
GUS:
Oh good. You know it...well, I
need to dump this stuff somewhere.
NANCY:
You don't need to dump it, dad...you need to
clean up the mess you've got.
GUS:
That's what I said... Hey... What's that?
Gus
points at a spot on the blueprint.
NANCY:
A sewer...
GUS:
Allah be praised.
NANCY:
We can't dump into that, dad.
GUS:
Fool?
FOOL:
What? Oh sorry.
Right. Why spend money to
fix the drains, when you can poison people's brains? If you are blind unto your crimes, who can stop you pumping
slime? Why think of those that
you will hurt? You've always
treated them like dirt.
GUS:
I agree, smart thinking Fool.
Nancy, tell the contractors to tap into the sewer.
NANCY:
Dad, listen to me: this is a mistake.
They'll close us down.
GUS:
They've tried before.
NANCY:
Maybe I should contact the board.
GUS:
What? Never!
This is my company.
FOOL:
(To Nancy) Your words are wasted on his ears,
for he is advanced in his years... His mind is addled, his vision fails; he
weighs out justice on broken scales.
NANCY:
You're not giving me a lot of choice here, dad.
Maybe you should get some rest, let me take over for a while, until
you're back to your old self again.
GUS:
Traitor...conspirator...you're fired.
Get out!
NANCY:
You can't be serious.
GUS:
Get out before I release the hounds...
NANCY:
Dad, what are you doing? You're
acting crazy.
GUS:
Out!!!
NANCY:
But daddy...
GUS:
I told you to never call me that at the office...get out...ungrateful wench. Sewage put you through University...good riddance to bad
rubbish.
Nancy
exits office in tears.
GUS
(CONT'D): Damn it all!
No one understands what it's like to be in charge of it all.
You understand me though, don't you, my pretty fool?
Tell me a rhyme.
FOOL:
I'm on my break.
GUS:
I said tell me a damn rhyme!
FOOL:
Fine... It's platitudes that thou adores, and empty ones I have in store.
The bravery that you showed today, will help to drive them all away.
And a noble king you shall always be, with just one friend, and you're
paying me. So regal yourself and have a laugh, and I shall write your
epitaph. And in it I shall duly
say...You lived your life without guilt or fear, but if only you had read King
Lear. You might have lived to see
the day, when you did not play out the play.
GUS:
I like it...now change hats and drive me home.
I have a headache.
This Week's 10 Favorite Search Terms for
Avery Ant
The following are this week’s favorite 10 search
queries people used to get to www.averyant.com
(really!)
virgo
bong
how to have fun in one minute
pope ass
hurting burning nasty
going rotter in bed
rabid goat email
elmo gone bad
which dr. you visit for a hemorrhoid
happy clown no such thing
spanking and accountability
(to the top)
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