Saturday, April 7, 2018

Where do the brains go when they drain out of Malaysia? That's right, Down Under!



The Lost Thing, which took over three years to create, is a 15-minute fable about a boy in Melbourne who, while collecting bottle caps near a beach, discovers a strange creature that seems to be a combination of an industrial boiler, a crab and an octopus.

The son of a Malaysian-Chinese father and an Anglo-Irish mother, Tan, 37, came to filmmaking after a career as an award-winning author and illustrator.

The Lost Thing, originally the story of a lost pet, was written by Tan in 1999 "on the kitchen table of a share house." He says the deadpan lead character is partially based on himself as a teenager.

That teenager was once interested in becoming a genetic scientist, and studied chemistry and physics as well as continuing a childhood interest in drawing and science fiction, before studying literature and art history at the University of Western Australia.

Despite moving to Melbourne in 2007, Brunswick resident Tan remains strongly tied to the west, where he grew up, inaugurating The Shaun Tan Award for Young Artists, (for shcoolchildren aged between five and 17 years) which sponsored by the City of Subiaco. A mural he painted adorns 20 square metres of the wall at the Subiaco Public Library.

Andrew Ruhemann, owner and producer of Passion Pictures, worked as a producer at Richard Williams Studios, which made the animated feature Who Framed Roger Rabbit. He said he was "immediately drawn" to the book of The Lost Thing when he encountered it at the Bologna Children's Book Fair.

[Read the rest here.]

Andrew Ruhemann & Shaun Tan with their Oscars
Interview with 2011 short film Oscar-winner Shaun Tan

The 2011 Oscars have awarded The Lost Thing as the Best Animated Short. Check out the full interview with talented filmmakers Andrew Ruhemann and Shaun Tan who reveal how they made the film happen and the journey they took from illustration to CG animation.

Congratulations. When did you first write this and how long was this in the making from when you mentioned it to when it actually made the screen?

[Tan] Okay. I originally wrote this story in, I think, 1998. I was an unemployed illustrator. I wrote it on the kitchen table of my share house. Worked on it for a year. Developed it as a picture book, which was then published in Melbourne in the year 2000. Shortly afterward, it was exhibited in an international book fair in Italy, which is where Andrew came across the story. And we began discussions about developing it as an animated film at that point. So, the whole project for me has spanned, I guess, some 13 years.

So, you originally started as an illustrator. How was that going into animation? CG animation nonetheless?

[Tan] Well, I started off as an illustrator with absolutely no formal training aside from high school. And so, when Andrew originally approached me and suggested adapting this for animation, my first reaction was I am not a filmmaker and secondly, (inaudible) and I still managed to do other stuff as an artist. And so, I basically just asked everybody I knew in the film industry about animation, and I started studying handbooks. And also, Andrew came down to both Melbourne and Perth and Western Australia, and we had very intensive story boarding sessions and, I guess, part of that was actually a degree of mentorship. You were explaining to me narrative flow in pictures. I was already working in that in illustrated stories, but film is obviously a different animal and I guess, if anything, it helps me bridge that gap.

This is another win for Australia, this category. What do you think is going on down there in the animation business?

[Tan] You know, it’s not just animation. As an illustrator, I know it’s in the world of children books (inaudible). It’s something to do with the fact that we don’t have any existing tradition. Something like that. And we experiment. And we go a little crazy. And a lot of our projects are very small. And our project was extremely small as well. And both Andrew and our producer, it’s basically just two other guys. It’s one animator (which is very unusual for even a short animated film) Leo Baker, and one digital artist, Tom Bryant. The three of us; myself, Tom, Leo, we did all the visuals that you see in the whole film over a period of three and a half years. With very little outside intervention or anybody to come in and say, no, it should be like this, it should be like that. We just thought this looks right to us, we will just give it a go, and we thought it worked, and obviously it’s working for other people now, too.

THE MIGRANT'S EYE ~ by Shaun Tan 
(Note: This essay is by a different Shaun Tan, not the creator of The Lost Thing)

[First posted 20 December 2011]





Friday, March 30, 2018

Ricardo Chavez Tovar ~ Sacred Ritual As Art

The Muse Is Not Available (December 2009)

The Elusive Art of Sacred Ritual

“Commercialism and industrialism now threaten, alas, to turn art into just another economic activity - and the artist's ceremonial and magical role into a purely ornamental one. No doubt a certain superstitious awe still attends the artist's endeavors; but in this consumerist age, the artist-shaman's contribution to the success of the hunt has been reduced to churning out effective advertising and public relations for the vulgar new gods of materialism - or fashionable new trends for the children of the privileged.” ~ Antares Maitreya (Inner Technology of Art: Making Public the Private, 2001)


It’s not often that I get the chance to quote myself, so I decided to grab this opportunity. I feel the above statement is particularly relevant to what Ricardo Chavez Tovar is all about. He is one among a handful of artists with whom I’m personally acquainted who has consciously reclaimed his magical lineage as a brujo – a practising shaman. Technically, he is as conscientious and competent as any professional artist you will find anywhere in the world. It’s just that Ricardo doesn’t give two hoots about public relations and the glossy hype that permeates the art milieu.

I don’t claim to know the man at all, but he apparently knows something about me, since he keeps inviting me to officiate at his openings. And now he is twisting my arm to write a foreword for his catalog, even though he must suspect I no longer feel fired up enough about art to wish to pontificate about it. In any case, Ricardo says I should view it as an honor and not a chore, and so I will.

Rare photo of the artist with some of his students
Ricardo Chavez Tovar will always be an enigma - perhaps even to himself. I won’t attempt to expound upon his equally enigmatic and intriguing art. Indeed, to approach his work on the cerebral level seems sacrilegious. It would be as uncouth and ungracious as furtively extracting dead skin cells from the fingers of the Muse for laboratory analysis, instead of ecstatically surrendering to her tender caresses.

One thing is certain: Ricardo Chavez Tovar is not bothered by the games people tend to play and the elaborate pretenses that surround the rarefied precincts of fashionable and marketable art. Would he otherwise spend months and years working on exhibits that can’t be sold and proudly displayed in the finest suburban homes?

Nonetheless, having said that, I can picture Ricardo’s evocative installations occupying pride of place in some prestigious contemporary art museum anywhere in the civilized world - so I hope he maintains an open mind about the prospect of sudden, unexpected global acclaim.

Altar to the Muse (December 2009)
What drives the man, then, to such unimaginable intensities of feeling and artistic arousal? If the word “religious” didn’t carry such a heavy burden of negative connotations, I would apply it to Ricardo’s art. After all, he was born Mexican: a tempestuous genetic and cultural mix of Olmec, Maya, Zapotec, Toltec, Aztec and Conquistador. His blood is infused with the otherworldly song of stars; and with the colors, flavors and textures that inspire vivid murals. His cellular memories encompass galaxies and constellations. The mystery of death fascinates and obsesses him as powerfully as the secret of life. His imagination is fired equally by the divine and the diabolical. You could call him a regenerate pagan, a renegade human.

Ricardo’s series of installations dedicated to the Muse - conspicuously absent, yet ubiquitously present - now exist only in photographic form lovingly documented by Ung Chirt Min - having been exhibited to no more than a tiny number of hardcore aficionados. In effect, Ricardo Chavez Tovar is one of those rare artists who can operate quite happily without an audience, since his art is his personal form of worship, his own sacred ceremony.

Morning Stretching Of A Golden Fool On The Awakening Balcony
What inspired him to embark on the current series? In a recent email Ricardo discloses that he “got struck by a shining light of creative madness” while listening to The Residents, one of his favorite avant-garde bands, whose allusions to an imaginary guru named N. Senada and his Theory of Obscurity were probably based on the mutant musings of Don Van Vliet aka Captain Beefheart - a 1970’s Dada rock icon who retired from the music scene in 1982 to focus on painting.

Ricardo spent three years in China learning the language and absorbing the culture. Then he relocated to Penang where he has taught for nearly twenty years. His best buddy and artistic accomplice in Penang is Askandar Unglehrt (a German married to a Kelantanese princess) who shares Ricardo’s eye and taste for the surreal, the epiphanic and the ephemeral – and also the luminous, numinous, humorous, ludicrous and (conceptually) intoxicating.

I mention Askandar because his contribution to Ricardo’s evolution as an artist-magician cannot be discounted. Every artist, shaman, sorcerer or wizard derives inspiration, nourishment and nurturing from those who recognize, acknowledge and believe in him.

Well, Ricardo, let me state here for the record that I, too, recognize, acknowledge and believe in you. Live long, prosper (if at all possible), and influence the course of human destiny (if you so desire).

Antares Maitreya
Magick River
6 August 2009

October’s Full Moon Party at the Tropical Gardens of Lady Luna (2012)

A Note of Apology from Antares

Ricardo emailed me in January 2007, asking if I would say “a few words” at the opening of his installation, The Muse Is Not Available.

I agreed, of course, since everybody says it’s an honor to be invited to officiate at such events.

My dear friend Askandar Unglehrt, in his program notes to this event, describes Ricardo’s work as “a visual poem about presence and absence - or, more precisely, about the presence of the absence.”

I know Ricardo as an artist who lives his art. And we know that life imitates art as often as art imitates life. I was looking forward to being present at his opening in Kuala Lumpur. And yet my absence is proclaimed by this note. I was compelled by unavoidable circumstances to deliver this message by proxy.

One of my daughters celebrates her 10th wedding anniversary today on Langkawi Island and she insisted that her Daddy be present. Without consulting the calendar I immediately agreed. Knowing her, she would not be amused if I didn’t show up for her grand party.

Ricardo, I know, has already forgiven me. Indeed, he wants me to officiate at his next opening. I promise I will make myself available on that happy occasion. For now, I can only trust that my absence will add to, rather than detract from, the magical presence of Ricardo’s uniquely imaginative and evocative work.

Thank you, dear friends. May you enjoy and be enriched by the work of this extremely talented and passionate artist.


Antares
1 June 2007






Thursday, March 29, 2018

And the beat goes on ~ a percussive interlude!













What these amazing talents reveal... is that you don't need multi-billion-dollar budgets to get astounding results. Those who can't afford expensive equipment can improvise with plastic buckets, a bicycle, even an invisible drum kit!

Yup... it's all a matter of timing, folks... keep your spirits upbeat.... won't be long now... it will be curtains for Umno/BN!

[First posted 24 August 2012]


Monday, March 5, 2018

A liquid poem by Weedflower


MAGICK RIVER

The first time we met
Unaware I was swept away
Hesitant resistance
I dip my toe in the river

The second time we met
Trust in myself and then you
A tribute engaged
I walked in the river

The third time we met
We embrace and dance
Surrender and control
Intertwined we played

Now my legs are dipped
And soon my being will flow
In the vastness of you
I'll come and visit
to remember
to remember

Photo & poem by Weedflower aka Paik Yin.
First posted 10 February 2011.



Friday, March 2, 2018

An Enlightening Chat With Robert Happé



Robert Happé was born in Amsterdam, Holland. He dedicated himself to discover the meaning of life and studied religions and philosophies in Europe. He also studied Buddhism, Vedanta and Taoism in the Far East for a period of 14 years, while living and working with people of different cultures, such as the Indian, Nepalese, Tibetan, Cambodian and Taiwanese.

On his return to Europe he felt the need to share his experiences in consciousness and did so at various universities, where he learned to work and share information with groups of people who were interested in self-development and discovering their true potential as creative beings.

Since 1987, he has been sharing information in the form of seminars in many European countries, as well as South Africa, Australia, USA, Argentina and Brazil.

He works independently and is in no way associated with any religious organizations, cult or group.

[Kindly brought to my attention by Gushiv Wo. First posted 23 March 2010]

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Andy McKee ~ Amazing Fingerstyle Virtuoso








[Thanks to Divya Nair for introducing me to Andy McKee!]

NOW HERE'S 11-YEAR-OLD SUNGHA JUNG DOING A COVER OF ANDY MCKEE'S RYLYNN...



[First posted 5 January 2009]

Friday, February 9, 2018

What Rhymes With Aphrodisiac? An Interview with Rob Brezsny

Found this brilliant interview with ROB BREZSNY - multidimensional genius without portfolio - conducted by Sarah Phelan for Metro Santa Cruz in August 2005. I just have to blog it, if only because Brezsny comes pretty close to saying it all for me, and probably a lot more elegantly too!

GRAVE ENCOUNTER

In which we bury a symbol of paranoia in an effort to break on through to the other side with astrologer Rob Brezsny

By Sarah Phelan
Photographs by Dina Scoppettone

It began with an email from Rob Brezsny, that renegade genius whose syndicated Free Will Astrology column runs in 130 newspapers nationwide, including Metro Santa Cruz. Only this time Brezsny, who lived in Santa Cruz for 14 years and has since moved to Marin, wasn't writing horoscopes, but pushing his newest book, Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia (North Atlantic Books; $19 paper).

"Reading it is interesting and helpful, too, but a lot of good stuff can happen if you just let its edgy benevolence seep into your dreaming mind," wrote Brezsny, who urged me to sleep with a copy of Pronoia under my pillow for at least three nights.

At 296 pages thick, the copy of Pronoia that happened to be sitting on my desk didn't strike me as a dream pillow—even in softcover. But Brezsny's email did get me leafing through his weighty tome, whose cover (a flaming heart at the center of a labyrinth) and optimistic subtitle (How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You With Blessings) had already piqued my curiosity. And once inside its pages, I was unable to resist the "dear gorgeous genius" love letter, or the "luminous tease page," which in typical Brezsny fashion exhorted me to "rebel against your horoscope," and "sip the tears of someone you love." And then there were Brezsny's miribilia reports, which reportedly come "live from your repressed memory of paradise," and include freeing gems, like the uplifting news that "black sheep have a better sense of smell than white sheep."

Promising to place my copy under my pillow (beauty sleep be damned), I emailed Brezsny my request for a face-to-face interview—something he deemed "so 20th-century, but fun, too."

He ended up suggesting that we meet at the Evergreen Cemetery in Harvey West Park to carry out a ritual burial of my share of paranoia, cynicism and snark.

"Not that you have any more than the rest of us; we all need to bury our load of psychic garbage," wrote Brezsny, adding that if I wanted to bury my paranoia then I should bring a symbol of it.

And so it was that after deliberating on paranoid symbolism for the next two weeks, I found myself standing beside the white picket fence that delineates Evergreen Cemetery, a picture postcard of George W. Bush in my hands. Brezsny says he chose this graveyard for our meeting because of many fond associations he has with the place, including meeting the love of his life, Ro Loughran, who he first spied "flailing like a whirling dervish on top of a sepulcher during a performance art event called "A Happy Birthday for Death."

Oddly enough, my first impression of the historic site, which contains the tombstones of some of Santa Cruz's earliest movers and shakers, was of a lover's quarrel, thanks to the pasty-faced goth couple with matching jet-black hair, who standing beneath the cemetery's metal archway were hurling poisonous insults at each other, as I approached.

Not wishing to invade their space and with Brezsny nowhere in sight, I wandered between the cemetery's white entrance pillars and up the redbrick path that meanders into the hills that flank Harvey West Park. Halfway along the path, I encountered a woman whose body was silhouetted by a blinding sheet of white light. Temporarily disoriented, I was just beginning to wondering if this lady—and the goth couple for that matter—were ghosts, when the apparition stepped out of the sunlight and into the shade, revealing herself to be Metro Santa Cruz photographer Dina Scoppettone, who told me that she had just found an old headstone inscribed with the name "Sarah"—a site she thought might be perfect for my paranoia burial ritual.

Just then an exuberant gaggle of school kids caught our attention as they entered the cemetery screaming happily and followed by a man with windswept silver hair, who was wearing a white lab coat over black clothes and carrying a clipboard and pen. As the sun glinted off the man's Harry Potteresque spectacles, I recognized him as Rob Brezsny, "the master of rowdy bliss" as he calls himself in Pronoia, who was here to help me bury my postcard of Bush "without hate." And so we spent the next hour, sitting on the some cold stone steps that led to a nearby grave and talking, as solitary yellow leaves drifted down from the tree canopy and onto the trails, where wind swept them along in dry rattling rustles.


METRO SANTA CRUZ: What can we do about paranoia in light of the fact that Rove is still roving and Bush just got, er 're-elected'?

BREZSNY: The worst thing is to let any of our responses to Bush make us like him, like the fundamentalist virus, which makes us believe the way we see things is correct.

Confess your fundamentalist virus.

My daughter is always busting me when I'm prejudiced against rich people. The mark of a fundamentalist take on things is that it's totally serious, literal and personal. Those are the three death grips.

How long have you been assuming your lab coat identity?

About six years, part time. I like some of the ways that scientists look at the world, how they shed their personal biases, how they don't jump on a little bit of data and make up stories, but just deal with what's there. One of my hypotheses is that the world is conspiring to give us exactly what we need, not from my ego's, but from my soul's, point of view. I put on the lab coat to inspire me, mostly. To remind myself that I'm a scientist, a researcher, not a know-it-all. I like to say I'm looking for the answers so I can destroy them and think up better questions.

Grave New World: Both Rob Brezsny and George W. Bush share the same astrological signs - Cancer with Libra moon - yet only Brezsny adheres to the ancient Spider-Man koan:
'With great power comes great responsibility.'

Do you think that people sitting there, saying, 'Bush is our greatest teacher,' even as bombs keep killing people in Iraq, can lead to dangerous apathy?

I think the answer is to try to live in both of those realms and maintain a dual perspective. Yes, everything is going exactly as planned, but from the perspective that we as small egos can't see, it will work out in a way that may be immediately difficult and painful, but will be good for all. So you can sit there, but also be prepared to fight fiercely for beauty and justice and harmony, to be absolutely devoted to kicking ass in the most tender way possible. Being a pronoiac doesn't make you passive. There's a lot of fierceness in my particular approach to creating goodness and truth and beauty.

I notice you say 'pronoiac' and not 'pronoid.'

Pronoiac rhymes with aphrodisiac. Pronoid rhymes with paranoid.

By rhyming with aphrodisiac, pronoiac emphasizes a love of life?

Yeah, this pronoia is celebration. It's not a passive optimism. It's not an "ignore the darkness" kind of optimism. This is not a shopping-mall-in-Indianapolis kind of pronoia. This is not a gated-community kind of pronoia. It's a let-the-chaos-in kind of pronoia, because the Goddess is bringing us chaos over and over again. That's how she creates. So, pronoia's got to thrive on chaos. It can't be afraid of it.

A woman with a heavy Spanish accent called our paper a few months ago from Watsonville, and said, 'Rob Brezsny, he hates Aries.' She claimed your column always bashes Aries. Do you have a secret hatred of Aries?

(Laughs rowdily.) No, I love all the signs equally, but as you can imagine, I'm a huge projection screen for people. In general, that's probably pretty good. They can project onto me their inner teacher. They can imagine that I'm somehow the source of this information, when it's actually coming from them, because it's all in how you interpret my work. I think when I'm working at my best, I'm standing in for each person's inner teacher. Since lots of people don't know they have such a thing, I can provide a service, I can materialize it in the outer world.

Your work, then, is all in the interpretation?

I try to keep my intentions extremely clean and pure and loving, because I think that's the only thing that's going to work to ensure that people take what I say and use it in the best way. It's so important that your intentions don't get subverted, or appropriated by the ego or your desire to be loved or please other people. Not that those are terrible motivations, but to do what I do best, I have to give without any strings attached, with the smartest love I can summon.

What made you leave Santa Cruz?

My wife was going to grad school in San Francisco. I also had that sense that as long as I lived in Santa Cruz, that because I resonated so deeply with the starving artist archetype, I would remain a starving artist. I don't think everyone who lives here does that, to the contrary, but I felt I'd remain insular, if I stayed. And within a couple of years of leaving, my column took off and got syndicated, and I made a lot more money.

Do you pray for clarity?

I do. Most of my prayers start with gratitude, asking Goddess what I can do for her, rather than what she can do for me

Is Pronoia a character in Greek mythology?

In Greek mythology, Pronoia was the consort of Prometheus, the divine rebel who stole fire from the gods and brought it to humanity. Pronoia is an ancient word that's been used in different contexts, but used to mean providence, or the abundance of spiritual gifts.

Do you see Pronoia as a female figure, or as a belief system?

I like to say it's a mode of perception and try to take out of realm of belief. I do like to see it as a muse, though, as a somewhat elusive but generous muse, which for me, because I'm a heterosexual man, tends to take a female form, and a muse that bestows an abundance and surprise and clues to me as a researcher. ... It's critical that what we call the archetype of the Divine Feminine returns in full force before we kill the world — or kill the world as it's inhabitable for us.

In 'Pronoia,' you call yourself Global Village Idiot and Fool Czar?

Right, although the president hasn't responded to my request to be appointed Fool Czar.

So, as Fool Czar, how would you exhibit compassion toward George?

I'd love to kiss his ass. I even offered to kiss Rove's butt without his underpants on, but I haven't had any response. And I'd love to talk about the fact that George W. Bush and I share astrological signs. We're both Cancer with Libra moon. I'd like to talk about ways we're similar.

What are those ways?

We're both good at touching into the collective imagination. However, in my opinion, he manipulates that for the powers of greed, of elitism, of militarism and materialism, whereas I'm trying to, I suppose, manipulate it in the name of beauty and truth and the elimination of hierarchy, of pure democracy and feminism. I'd like him to consider creating some new holidays. One of them would of course be the Bliss Blast.

As part of one of the exercises in your book called 'Rank Your Favorite Doomsday Scenario,' I went on the Internet, typed in 'paranoia' and got tons of hits. Waco. Men in black. The Bay of Pigs. The Bermuda Triangle. Chemtrails. Black helicopters. UFOs. Tinfoil Hats. The missing WMDs and 9/11. Bin Laden. Seems like it's a pretty good time in the history of world to be paranoid.

A pretty interesting time.

So, you're swimming against the stream with your pronoia?


I'm not gonna claim that the news is 95 percent good, but I would like to work on the hypothesis that maybe it's fifty-fifty. I think that the absurd domination of bad news is curious and suspicious. It seems to suggest that those who identify themselves as educated and elite communicators in our society believe the opposite of what the poet John Keats said, which is, 'If something is not beautiful, it is probably not true.

The media and a lot of politicians seem to say the exact opposite, which is, if something is not ugly, it is not true. And that's a cockeyed view of world. I'm not advocating that we ignore the darkness and pretend, for instance, that we're not living through a mass extinction event. For example, biologists say we're living through the greatest extinction of species in 65 million years. However, in my opinion we're in the midst of tremendous abundance as well — tremendous beauty and joy and pleasure. The apocalypse is not happening sometime in the future, it's already under way. It's a slow motion apocalypse and it's both apocalypse in the current sense of word, which is a collapse, a degeneration of things falling apart, but also in the ancient sense, which is an awakening. So, right alongside all this collapse and degeneration is awakening and birth and fountains of incredible creativity and reinvention. To be honest, as educated intellectual people, we need to report on the other side.

Tell me about the homeopathic medicine spells in your book. Do you put the bad, negative stuff inside them?

Yes, you recognize the negative. You put it in its place and surround it with blessings, with a spell of protection, so it won't reach out and grab some part of our subconscious mind and say, "This is true. You are like this." So, in a sense, these spells protect us against our temptation to resonate with ugliness, evil and ungenerous anger. Jung talked about the shadow, that part of ourselves that is wounded, sick, that never grew up right. So, we have to have a relationship with our shadows. If we try to deny or ignore their existence, they will bite us in the ass, subvert our good intentions, undermine what we're trying to do. We need to make sure that before we go out and ask the world to change, that we're in very close contact with the ugliness in ourselves and that we're working to redeem that and transform it.

We take a break, during which Brezsny retrieves a long-handled shovel from his car for our burial event. But as he poses beneath the cemetery's metal archway, and I dig a hole safely away from the graves, including the "Sarah" headstone — a police car turns onto Evergreen Road and slows to a crawl, its uniformed occupants eyeing our merry trio with detached curiosity.

Immediately, my paranoia, which I have not yet buried, springs back to life, taunting me with questions, such as, 'Is it illegal to bury a photo of the U.S. president, especially if you're an immigrant on a green card?' Not knowing what else to do with the evidence, I jam it into my pants, with the unintended consequence that Bush's photo ends up kissing my ass. (Hey, maybe the exercise is already working!) And the minute the cop car passes by, I hastily dig a shallow grave, lay Dubya's picture in it with as much kindness as I can summon and cover it up with soil, moments before the cop car cruises by again and Brezsny and I resume our interview.


In 'Don't Think of an Elephant,' George Lakoff warns against framing the debate in the opposition's language. Are you dancing around on the philosophical side of that equation, with your vision of pronoia?


In the Jewish magazine Tikkun, almost immediately after the November election, Rabbi Michael Lerner began talking about how the left can't keep ceding spirituality to the right. We have to add a spiritual aspect to our perspective. That's why a lot of people just gravitate de facto to the right, because at least they recognize or include the element of spirituality. But there are people on the left who represent the spiritual side of left. We do have a moral vision, a very powerful vision about what's good for most people.

As the aftermath of 9/11 showed us, clearly our fears can be manipulated. Is there also a button for happiness?

Right now we as a society are addicted to fear. We need an intervention, to talk in 12-step language. We're so accustomed to being motivated and moved and fascinated by fear that we've lost the capacity to even imagine that pleasure and joy and regeneration and integrity can be interesting. I think it takes a retraining, on a personal level... The first step is to have the intention to be happy. Who'd have thought of that?

What do you believe in?

My personal belief is that there are many other dimensions besides this particular one and that there are beings that are not physically manifest: some are stupid, some smart, good, some bad, some in between, just like in the material realm, but I believe the caricature of angels, kind of a New Age parody, if we look back at John Milton and William Blake, who consorted with angels and many great literary and intellectual minds who took angels very seriously, seriously, not just as a metaphor, not as some empty hope, but as literal entities. I believe in angels, angels who are working full-time to create beauty and truth and love in the world. Unfortunately, they want and need us to identify and ask for what we need, and most people don't do that.

Why do people need to ask?

Because this is a collaboration, not a fascist regime. Contrary to what fundamentalist Christians would say, this is a collaborative effort. The whole point in free will is to participate in a collaborative effort, not leave it to some all-knowing spiritual forces. In a greater sense, I believe in God or Goddess, a single divine intelligence that animates the universe and is simultaneously aware of 500 million galaxies and their function and the six kittens that were recently born to you. From the ego side, that sounds impossible, but I don't think a belief in angels and divine intelligence is required. Some of the greatest spiritual workers on the planet are atheists, but they are supremely ethical, their spiritual work having firmly to do with improving conditions on earth.

In 'Pronoia,' you write, 'I'm allergic to dogma. I thrive on riddles. Any idea I believe, I reserve the right to disbelieve as well.' So, after 'Pronoia' has been out for a while, you're not going to tell us you don't believe in it anymore, are you?

My policy is to believe in the things that inspire me about 75 to 80 percent. I say that about astrology, too. I would never think of saying that I believe in astrology 100 percent, or in feminism or in the perspective of psychology, or leftist politics. All those things, when you identify yourself so entirely with them, that there's no "you" outside of those ideologies, then I think you lost, you're upset, you're possessed by ideas. That's always dangerous, even if the ideas are great ideas. So, I think it's important to maintain skepticism about pronoia. Some people have written to me in a critical way that I expected. Most people resonate pretty well with the philosophy of pronoia, but some say, "You are deluded, you are helping to spread stupidity and laziness." I can understand the fear that if we work at seeing things optimistically, we might lose sight of everything that's wrong with the world. I don't think I'll do that, but that's a valid fear, so in that sense, I'm skeptical of pronoia and I'm not going to promote pronoia as a cure all.

What about the flaming heart in the labyrinth on the cover of 'Pronoia'?

It's the heart on fire, the heart inflamed with the desire to bring beauty and truth and love and justice and harmony to the whole world. Pronoia is not a passive thing. It's fierce, it's filled with strong intention to bring that message that life is much better than it's being portrayed right now, that there's a lot we can do to emphasize what works, and we have to do that aggressively.

William James, the philosopher, talked about how we need a moral equivalent of war. What I take that to mean is that we all have this martial force within us. It's an inherent part of every human being. Unfortunately, it's usually expressed as war and conflict and anger, but there are other ways to express that martial force. As aggressiveness expressed in the name of feminine values. That's my particular angle. That's why I call myself a macho feminist. I want to bring the message of relationship, of intimacy, of love, of caring for other human beings with the same force that a macho dude might use in his struggles to take over the oil fields in the Middle East. This has macho force behind it, but it's done in the name of joy, peace and harmony. That's what that image says to me.

What was your motive for writing 'Pronoia'?

When Henri Matisse started his work, critics said he threatened to undermine civilization, that's the power artists had in some eras of history. It's hard to imagine anyone saying that about a painter or an artist today. It's been demonstrated that art has the power to remake the world, whether to subvert existing values and/or create new ones. I'd like to return to the Henri Matisse kind of place.

So ended our interview, and shortly thereafter, strange stuff started happening. No, the Bush regime did not immediately crumble to dust under the weight of its lies, like vampires in full daylight. Instead, things I thought I'd been paranoid about for years in my personal life turned out to be my angels whispering in my ear all along. And when I confronted the truth it turned out to be more beautiful than the ugliness of living in a lie. So, be advised: burying your paranoia may change your life, not necessarily in the way you were expecting, but in a way that will free you to see the truth and beauty in your own life—perhaps even with humor. As for the bigger picture, I'll leave you with a vision that Brezsny describes in Pronoia's "I Have a Dream" section:

"I'm the president now ... and so are you. I am the supreme Commander of the United Snakes of the Blooming Haha ... and so are you. And what we proclaim is that in the New World, we will love our neighbors as ourselves, even if our neighbors are jerks. We will search for the divine spark even in the people we most despise, and we will never dehumanize anyone, even those who dehumanize us. I have a dream that sooner or later, every one of us will become a well-rounded highly skilled, incredibly rich master of rowdy bliss—with lots of leisure time and an orgiastic feminist conscience."

Metro Santa Cruz © 2005

"At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love.
" ~ Ernesto Che Guevara

[First posted 30 November 2007]

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

An Exercise in Stress Management



Picture yourself near a stream.

Birds are softly chirping in the crisp, cool mountain air.

Nothing can bother you here.

No one knows this secret place.

You are in total seclusion from that place called "the world."

The soothing sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.

The water is clear.

You can easily make out the face of the person whose head you're holding under the water.


[Roy Hilbinger sent me this, author unknown. First posted 18 January 2007]

Monday, February 5, 2018

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Punishment versus Reward (revisited)


I consider myself fortunate to be living in a village with a population of around 150. The thing about village life is that it’s much easier to understand patterns of human behavior, because life is less cluttered than in a complex urban environment. You could say my village is a compact microcosm of the rest of the planet: what happens here, happens everywhere else, though on a much smaller scale.

My village is located between two rivers, amidst lush greenery surrounded by misty mountains. The air here is fresh and the water pure. Excellent fengshui, as the Chinese would say. In fact, life in this enchanting little village is as close to heaven on earth as it gets. Except that a few adolescent boys have been showing delinquent tendencies. Out of sheer boredom and an excess of energy, they break into houses and steal small items – foodstuff, watches, handphones, even toothpaste and cosmetics. Several times, after they made off with my belongings, I have caught them and ordered them to return whatever they took. Each time, the kids have been relieved that I didn’t appear too angry (since I didn’t hit them, as their fathers would invariably do). I usually sit them down and lecture them for an hour or so, after which I offer them hot drinks and, occasionally, some food. Every time this happens, they apologize and shake my hand, and everything is peaceful again - at least for a few months!

These teenaged wannabe criminals all have one thing in common: fierce fathers who never show their sons any affection, and hardly ever give them any attention - because they have far too many kids and can barely manage with their meagre earnings as daily paid laborers. Senseless acts of delinquency are a perverse form of protest. Their criminal behavior stems from an urge to express displeasure at what they experience as an unfair and unjust world.

Will Smith & his son Jaden at eight
All “wrongdoing” ultimately has its source in the communication gap between Father and Son. This is particularly true in any patriarchal society wherein God is perceived as the Father, and the Father is perceived as the State - at least in its manifestation as Punisher of Wrongdoers. I have long studied the social factors that influence young people to tread a criminal path. In almost every instance, the youthful malefactor is someone with above average intelligence and courage. When he sees that the Father does not embody the ideals everyone preaches but rarely practises, he loses faith in Goodness itself, and therefore opts to do “bad.” The Father who lacks compassion and empathy soon gets identified with Punishment. To avoid punishment, the kid becomes a compulsive liar. Dishonesty is acutely habit-forming and gets transmitted down the generations.

In a society where there is a great divide between public and private behavior – where politicians and businessmen only pay lip service to virtue – deceit and hypocrisy become a way of life. Kids may have little economic or political power, but we cannot assume they are stupid. They can see right through the grown-ups’ lies. Especially in recent years, when so many children are born with far greater potential intelligence than their parents and grandparents, they are certainly not going to behave like obedient little sheep.

So when I read in the newspapers about how the government intends to “beef up security” or “stiffen penalties” I feel like grabbing these “grown-ups” and yelling in their faces: “Look in the mirror instead of always blaming somebody else! Do you honestly believe the way to deal with the rising crime rate is to recruit more policemen? Have you asked yourself why there seems to be more and more crime? How about your own behavior? Is it really beyond reproach? What kind of values do YOU embody?"

Have you considered that paying more for a better grade of teachers - especially at the kindergarten and primary levels where ethical foundations are laid – may prove a great deal more meaningful than splurging on high-tech surveillance equipment? Nothing can replace the personal touch, the human warmth of an interpersonal relationship – be it between Father and Son, or Teacher and Pupil.

All work and no play not only makes Jack a dull boy, it can turn him into a rebel without a cause. Parents who work so hard “for the children’s future” may end up ruining their kids emotionally. All living things thrive on love, fresh air, and sunshine. This is scientifically true, not just a romantic notion. Even plants grow healthier and happier when they sense the gardener’s affection for them - what more our own children? Let’s get honest with ourselves first. Our kids will start being honest with us when we choose to reward, instead of punish, them for being themselves.

[First posted 26 December 2006]

Friday, January 26, 2018

PRIMATE POLITICS REVISITED


Hey, don't get into FEAR over a bunch of chest-thumping primates and their monkey tricks. I assume everybody is a racist until they transcend the very idea of "race." Look at the Orang Asli. Lowest rung on the "economic ladder" - and even they call Indian people "Keling"! After 26 years I'm still "Cina" to them. But they don't know any better. Most folks don't know any better until they've pulled the ethnic wool away from their eyes. The bad vision is called Cultural Imprinting.

Sure, every time I experience lousy work attitudes in corporations like Telekom or Syabas (the privatized Selangor water company) I joke about the fact that they're monoethnic (100% Melayu) outfits. Having grown up during the NEP years, it's hard not to feel miffed about racial quotas. Yet, when it comes down to interpersonal contact on a daily basis, I don't harbor negative feelings about Malays... or even the genocidal Israelis who are merely pawns of certain cynical and opportunistic elements amongst their own leadership... yup, just like the Malays!

What's been apparent to me is that among the Melayu, there's a great divide between the Anglophonic upper and upper-middle classes and the more plebeian post-kampong types. My English-speaking Malay friends are all pretty cosmopolitan and share most of my perceptions and values. However, the ones that suffer from chronic inferiority complex ultimately become aggressive as a way to compensate for their ego insecurities. Some end up holding positions in Umno or PAS and that's when they turn into Bangsa-Ugama extremists. They're really quite pathetic - no flag to wave beyond the mere fact of being born "Melayu" and "Muslim." Even so, they never question what it actually means to be "Melayu" or "Muslim." Indeed, the term "Malay" is so nebulous: the majority originate from Sumatra, some have Javanese, Bugis, and Siamese genes; others Chinese; many are descended from Arab, Turkish, and Indian Muslim traders - you won't find a more mongrelized genetic mix (except perhaps in Europe!)

That's why they cling tenaciously to the fact that the King of Melaka embraced Islam several hundred years ago (before that they were all vaguely Hindu, influence of the Srivijaya and Majapahit Empires). The same syndrome applies to the Khazars whose kingdom disintegrated in 900 A.D., after their monarch had officially converted to Judaism in a political maneuver to sidestep Rome's imperialistic designs. Many generations later, the Khazar Jews became a widely scattered fraternity who told themselves that as Jews they were Yahweh's "Chosen" and therefore had every right to regard non-Jews as expendable and exploitable "infidels" (goyim, they called anybody who wasn't Jewish).

Interestingly, the Orang Asli have derogatory names for the Malays (originally they were all called dagang, traders): e.g., the Batek call them gob, and the Temuan, jobok. Other folks, in turn, called the Orang Asli sakai - pretty much the equivalent of nigger! That's true everywhere, people in fear label others: geeks, gooks, frogs, wops, micks, greasers, chinks, ragheads, squareheads, dickheads...

My point is: it's "normal" for insular communities to be innately or outwardly xenophobic. What do the Chinese call Europeans? That's right, red-haired devils! So... why get worked up over low-grade displays of primate territoriality? That's the lowest common denominator of politics everywhere - it's the same in the UK, USA, Australia, Sweden, Germany, France.

And no matter how stupidly brutish the politicking gets, there will always be good, honest folks you can befriend who don't give a shit about your ethnicity. Let's celebrate humans who genuinely, passionately envisage Heaven on Earth, here and now, simply by allowing love rather fear to fill their hearts.


[First posted 26 December 2006]



Saturday, January 20, 2018

ENEMIES OF TRUTH AND JUSTICE! (updated & revisited)

Abdul Gani Patail, the slimiest Attorney-General Malaysia has had to endure 
(at least until Mohamed Apandi Ali took over!)

Look at these faces closely, folks. Some you already know, only too well - like the Famous Anus pictured right, pretending piety while oozing semen and lying through every orifice...

A few you wouldn't recognize even if they were sitting next to you on the train. If overzealous investigating officer DSP Jude Blacious Pereira (below, left) wasn't in uniform, would you recognize him on the street? Why are the Malaysian police going all out to convict one guy for "consensual sex" - while thousands of serious crimes, including the cold-blooded murder of foreign nationals, continue to remain unsolved?

They all have one thing in common: their involvement in the obscene plot to put Anwar Ibrahim back behind bars over a nonsensical charge of sodomy - in the hope that with Anwar locked away, the opposition coalition called Pakatan Rakyat will lose its impetus to replace Barisan Najis as the government of the day in Malaysia.

The statutes against anal and oral sex are a relic of Victorian era colonial rule. Whereas in Britain these statutes have long fallen into disuse and died a natural death, in Malaysia they have been dusted off and abused, twice, to persecute one particular individual - a charismatic political figure named Anwar Ibrahim, whose greatest crime was to challenge the extended dictatorial reign of Mahathir Mohamad, who became prime minister in 1981 and only stepped down on 31 October 2003 under pressure from his political party, Umno.

Anwar Ibrahim has the dubious distinction of being the only Malaysian to be publicly humiliated by accusations of pederasty, and forced to endure tortuous and twisted mock trials presided over by kangaroo judges - like the late unlamented Augustine Paul; the gormless Zabidin Mohd Diah (who redeemed himself by acquitting Anwar on 9 January 2012); and the grand inquisitorial Bahia Yusof Wahi (pictured left, who presided over the Court of Appeals' farcical decision to find Anwar guilty on 7 March 2014 and sentence him to 5 years' imprisonment - in what was clearly seen as a political maneuver executed in unholy haste to disqualify Anwar from standing for an important by-election scheduled on 23 March).

Anwar had been imprisoned for 6 years in 1999 and an insidious attempt was made on his life while serving out his sentence through gradual arsenic poisoning. All this occurred under Mahathir Mohamad's watch - and the same old shit is happening again to Anwar Ibrahim under Najib Razak's insufferable crime ministership.

Dr Seah Lay Hong, government forensic chemist, seems less concerned with the truth 
than keeping her job...
And we the public seem capable of only watching this perverse abuse of the law and shaking our heads in utter disbelief.

Shafee Abdullah, appointed  DPP,
demanded an even stiffer jail term
We owe it to ourselves - and our own posterity - to stop this gross mockery of rule of law and massive insult to our intelligence. The fact that the Attorney-General insisted on appealing Anwar's acquittal  - and even appointed a freelance mercenary to lead the prosecution - reveals the unmitigated malice with which the federal government has pressed for a conviction that would effectively take the Opposition Leader off the political gameboard. Not satisfied with a 5-year prison term, the prosecution is hell-bent on demanding a harsher sentence.

Saiful the Accuser stated in open court that he had visited the then deputy prime minister, Najib Razak, and his flamboyant wife Rosmah Mansor, at their private residence a couple of days before lodging a police report against Anwar. Najib himself was forced to admit as much during a press conference on 3 July 2008. This fact alone is enough to cast an opague shadow of serious doubt over the entire political charade.

If we allow this illustrious son of Malaysia, Anwar Ibrahim, to be imprisoned again for a completely anachronistic "crime" - and it's absolutely irrelevant whether or not the accusation leveled against him has any basis whatsoever - then we as citizens of this nation fully deserve to be mentally shackled, morally deformed, and condemned to neverending BN mismanagement unto forever.

Najib Razak and his spendthrift spouse Rosmah Mansor: 
Goodbye... begone... and please don't come back!


[First posted 22 February 2011, reposted 30 October 2014]


Saturday, January 13, 2018

From the Planet.... GONG! (In loving memory of Daevid Allen)



The Origins of Gong
Gong came into being almost by accident in the late sixties when Daevid Allen was refused entry back into Britain following European dates with Soft Machine. Deciding to stay in Paris, Allen began working alongside Gilli Smyth and various musicians on what would eventually become the phenomenal Gong.

The first recognized recordings from the band were Magick Brother, Mystic Sister (1970), followed by albums such as Camembert Electrique, Flying Teapot, and You.

Various permutations of Gong have worked together over the years under various names including Mother Gong, Expresso Gong, Gongmaison, Planet Gong, and so on and so forth. They have all included an amazing array of musical talent moving through the ranks, to name but a few: Didier Malherbe aka Bloomdido Bad de Grasse, Steve Hillage, Pierre Moerlen, Mike Howlett, Steffi Sharpstrings, Tim Blake, Hugh Hopper, and Robert Wyatt.

Gongmaison came about in April 1989 after Daevid Allen's return to the UK and, more importantly, following a French gig with former Gong member Didier Malherbe (pictured left, the most amazing wind instrumentalist alive on Earth - but, alas, a fact known only to initiates of GAS - or the Gong Appreciation Society!).

The name "Gongmaison" alluded to the mixture of house/jazz that the band played at the time - which, in fact, was nearer to house music although it still contained all the relevant Gong elements of old. This video clip comes from the band's performance in the early nineties and was filmed at the Fridge in Brixton.

The line-up includes key members of Gong - Daevid Allen, Didier Malherbe and the wiccan poet Gilli Smyth aka Shakti Yoni (right) who developed her own vocal technique dubbed the Space Whisper. It was Shakti Yoni, in fact, who helped to craft Gong's elaborate cosmomythology through her inspired poetry and storytelling.




The impact of GONG on my life

In the early 1970s I was in the habit of shopping for LPs in Singapore. My favorite source was Sing & Co. on Hill Street because they always had some real finds in the cheap bin. On one such occasion I spotted three albums by an unknown band called Gong. Drawn to the cover art (which depicted Pot Head Pixies in their Flying Teapots), I bought two albums without a moment's hesitation - and I wasn't disappointed one bit! In fact, I couldn't wait to return a few weeks later for Angels Egg which I had been forced by budget constraints to leave behind :-)

In 1969 I had been subjected to electroshock therapy on account of the amazing "visions" I'd been experiencing - of contact with extraterrestrials and angels and an Earth reborn in rainbow splendor, gone the historical (and hysterical) nightmare of smelly politics, rotten economics, and perpetual war. Looking at the Gong album artwork and listening to their fantastic music enormously cheered me and reconnected me with my core being. In Gong I had found my own spiritual and musical family at last - indeed, I'd go as far as to say Gong helped me regain my cosmic equilibrium and PHP humor! [PHP in this instance refers, of course, to "Pot Head Pixie" - NOT "Hypertext Preprocessor"!]

Gong's music, I thought, was akin to dervish dancing in that it induced in the listener a beatific trance state, opening one's consciousness to the kaleidoscopic worlds awaiting our discovery within our own neurology. Through all the ensuing decades, Gong and everything they represent have served as trusty friends and soul-family.

I'm indeed overjoyed to learn that Gong is very much alive and well. Daevid Allen is now a still-spritely 69 and rumored to be living in Byron Bay, New South Wales. His latest project is the University of Errors and I recommend a leisurely tour for some exquisite mental stimulation and not a few hearty belly laughs.

OWLY SONG by Daevid Allen (animation by Merav Shacham aka Bananamoon)



Watch GONG live in Nottingham, 1990!

The entire 7-part concert is on YouTube but as I can't embed the videos here, just click on each segment (if you don't have the patience to sit through all of it, go for Part 5 where Didier goes wild on his Yamaha WX7!):

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4a | Part 4b | Part 5 | Part 6

Daevid Allen in 1975: Cozmik Mad Hatter, Wizard of the Keys, and Master of Fohat

[First posted 20 June 2007, reposted 13 March 2015]



DAEVID ALLEN DIED ON 13 MARCH 2015. BUT HIS SON ORLANDO MONDAY ALLEN (ALSO A BRILLIANT MUSICIAN & PRODUCER) IS KEEPING THE FLAME BURNING BRIGHT FOR HIS MAGICAL PARENTS DAEVID ALLEN & GILLI SMYTH! 

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Soft drinks, hardheadedness, missionary aliens & funky ad campaigns that never saw the light of day...

1985 AD CAMPAIGN PROPOSAL FOR FRASER & NEAVE (MALAYA)

Concept & Copywriting - M. Eeel (Antares)
Artwork by Mohd Nor Khalid (Dato' Lat)

Story Outline

On a planet called Glug (where thirst is unknown) there are two intelligent species, viz., the Fun-loving Effs and the very Nice Enns.

The Effs and the Enns are highly evolved beings, sparkling of spirit and always joyful. Since there are no serious problems on Glug, young Gluglings are usually sent on special missions to more primitive worlds where through service and direct experience of hardship they acquire maturity.

Earth happens to be an important training ground for Glugling youths. This is one planet where Boredom, Thirst and General Nastiness abound: ideal conditions for the eager young Gluglings to learn through service to those less fortunate.

The main characteristic of the Effs is that they are Fun-loving. The Enns, on the other hand, make a life practice of being Nice. Working in close cooperation, the Effs and the Enns are dedicated to spreading Fun and Niceness throughout the Cosmos.

Our story is essentially set in the tropical zone of Planet Earth specifically a spot designated Station 17 – better known to Earthside cartographers as the Malay Archipelago. At the start of the Aquarian Cycle in Earth’s Solar System, the year 1883 by Gregorian reckoning, Project Waterbearer was launched. Taking human form in the persons of John Fraser and David Neave, two friendly Gluglings began a soda water bottling operation in the bustling port of Singapore.

The rest is F&N history.


Sub-Elements

Conditions on Earth at the inauguration of Project Waterbearer are hideous, to say the least. The sluggish atmosphere makes it easy to become hot-tempered and nasty which results in constant quarreling among a large proportion of Earthlings. The natives are hostile and suspicious and will not accept any kind of Fun and Niceness – unless appealingly packaged and appropriately price-tagged.

Working through the agency of Fraser & Neave, the Effs and Enns discover that trying to dispense Fun & Niceness on Earth brings with it many pitfalls and paradoxes. They learn that helping Earthlings have Fun is very hard work; and that promoting Niceness entails a certain amount of aggression. (These philosophical sub-elements can be drawn upon whenever the plot thins out and needs heavier ballast.)

The F&N strategy revolves around the idea that most Earthlings have developed hard heads as a result of constant knocking against artificial barriers (also known as Walls). Perhaps if they acquired a fondness for SOFT DRINKS, they would feel more relaxed and kindly towards each other.

Another factor is the initial resistance put up by avid believers in Hard Drinks. An interesting tale can be told about how F&N eventually solve the problem and bring about a planetary reconciliation. (The introduction of F&N cordials and mixers – and the acquisition of a brewery.)

Exobiological Notes

Effs and Enns are fluid existences and airy spirits. As such they do not have a fixed form or shape. When they travel they usually occupy canister or bottle type craft. In short, Glugling vessels can look like anything from a barrel to an ice-cream cone.

On Glug, the Effs and the Enns live in beautiful colonies of bubbles, floating freely over the friendly seas of this remarkable jug-shaped planet.


EPISODE ONE

[Illustration: Paradise on Glug]

On the planet Glug there are no serious problems. The Gluglings found out a long time ago that life is Fun – and that the best way to live is to be Nice to everyone. But you can only learn these things through hard experience. That’s why so many young Effs and Enns receive their further education on EARTH…

[Illustration: Glugling briefing session showing Earthlings confounded by walls]

Planet Earth: a popular training ground for young Gluglings. A planet where boredom, thirst and general nastiness abound. Why are so many Earthlings bored? Because from the time they’re very small their enthusiasm is blocked by artificial barriers called “walls.” (Besides, they get very few good shows on TV.)

[Illustration: scene of typical Earthside mayhem]

Why do Earthlings get thirsty? Because their frustration makes them quarrel a lot and they become hot and bothered. Why are they so often nasty? Because they’re thirsty and bored – and always running into walls makes them extremely hardheaded (even when they’re not wearing helmets!)

And so, Project Waterbearer was launched by an enterprising bunch of young Effs and Enns…


EPISODE TWO

[Illustration: zodiacal image of Waterbearer with replica of Planet Glug]

The objectives of Project Waterbearer were: (i) to restore enthusiasm and a sense of Fun among the Earthlings; (ii) to moisten their throats, parched from useless bickering, and (iii) to make them feel Nice all over.

[Illustration: Effs and Enns put on their thinking caps]

What was needed was: (i) something BUBBLY; (ii) something WET, and (iii) something very PLEASANT…. Hmmmm.

[Illustration: The Soft Drink unveiled]

And so… Glug created the Soft Drink as the answer to Hardheadedness. (The Gluglings also invented the Bubble Bath… but that’s another story.)


EPILOG

We never heard back from Fraser & Neave, unfortunately! :(