Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Sat Jul 13, 2013 1:51 pm

Some religious music:


YEMAYA Y OCHUN

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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Sat Jul 13, 2013 8:30 pm

http://kalisherni.tumblr.com/post/55310 ... al-goddess

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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Mon Jul 15, 2013 9:42 am

http://www.nthposition.com/sexdrugsampthe.php

Sex, Drugs & the CIA

by Douglas Valentine

Barbara Crowley Smithe was nineteen years old in January 1953. She
was full-figured, sexy and smart, with dark hair, blue eyes, and
a trace of Irish freckles. She lived in Manhattan with her husband
Eliot Smithe, and their 20-month old daughter, Valerie.

People who knew Barbara said she was a vibrant, happy young woman,
but that she became confused about her sexuality, and gradually
lost her self-esteem.

Her friends did not know why, but she began to have angry confrontations
with Eliot. Arguments led to rough fights and a separation in 1957.
Two extra-martial affairs engendered a haunting sense of guilt,
guilt led to depression, depression dissolved into despair, and
ultimately Barbara succumbed to paranoia.

At her psychiatrist's advice Barbara was admitted to Stony Lodge
Hospital in December 1958. Before long she and Eliot divorced, and
Valerie went to live with Eliot's parents. Institutionalized for
much of the next twenty years, Barbara died of leukemia in February
1978, without ever telling Eliot the secret she took to her grave--the
stunning secret that may very well explain her descent into mental
illness.

Indeed, Barbara's mental breakdown may be traced to the night of
January 11th, 1953, when--without her knowledge or consent--she
was given a dose of LSD by an agent of the Central Intelligence
Agency. After that incredible night, her short, sad life was never
the same.

MKULTRA

Why would the CIA want to give LSD to a nineteen-year-old woman
with an infant in her arms? What did Barbara Smithe have to do with
pressing matters of National Security?

The official explanation dates to 1951, when the CIA received an
unsubstantiated report that the Soviet Union was about to corner
the world market in LSD. The Soviets were thought to be perfecting
drug-induced "brainwashing" techniques, and the CIA reeled at the
prospect of Russian agents dumping LSD into New York's water supply,
and then using insidious Communist propaganda to turn drug addled
American citizens against their own government.

While this frightening scenario never did materialize, the CIA was
able to use it as a pretext to start testing LSD on friends and
foes alike. The spy agency's ultimate objective was to develop the
capability to entrap and blackmail spies, diplomats, and
politicians--ours, as well as theirs.

The CIA called its experimental LSD "mind-control" project MKULTRA.

After a year of conducting MKULTRA experiments in laboratories,
the CIA's researchers decided they needed to start testing LSD in
"real life"settings. In order to do this, however, they needed a "front," so
they asked Harry Anslinger, the Commissioner of the Federal Bureau
of Narcotics (FBN), to provide them with an agent who was capable
of finding suitable test subjects within the arcane setting of
narcotics control. Subjects were to be FBN informants, drug addicts
and drug peddlers, prostitutes, pornographers, and other degenerate
underworld characters--in other words, people who were already
compromised by their deviant behaviors, and would be unable to
complain to the police if they were damaged during the LSD experiments.

The Double Man

The man Anslinger selected for the MKULTRA job was George Hunter
White. A highly successful and flamboyant federal narcotic agent
since1935, White's claim to fame was a 1937 undercover case he made
against the notorious drug smuggling Sino-American trade association,
the Hip Sing T'ong. Posing as John Wilson, the nephew of his "Uncle
Sam" (a hitherto unknown hood who was forming a new drug syndicate),
White crossed the country contracting with Hip Sing T'ong members
for huge purchases of opium.

According to legend, White, a Caucasian, was initiated into the
T'ong, swearing to accept "death by fire" should he ever break its
sacred oath of secrecy. The investigation climaxed in November 1937
with a series of spectacular mass arrests, including several
prominent Mafiosi. The case cemented White's status as the FBN's
top agent, and subsequently involved him its most important, secret
investigations.

At five feet, seven inches tall, and weighing a rotund 200 pounds,
White, who shaved his head completely bald, was the image of a
tough detective, the kind who made bad guys tip their hats and
speak politely to cops. A native of California, he was ebullient
and brash, and as a former crime reporter for the San Francisco
Call Bulletin, had a nose for sniffing out trouble.

And trouble was what White enjoyed more than anything else. Rough
and tough and good with his fists, White led his fellow federal
agents into many a fight with the country's most vicious hoods.
More importantly, his many newspaper contacts were always available
to his publicity hunger boss, and after he extricated Anslinger's
stepson from an undisclosed legal problem, White became the
Commissioner's favorite and most trusted agent.

The main reason White was given the MKULTRA LSD testing assignment,
was that he had acquired clandestine drug testing experience during
the Second World War. In 1943 he had been transferred from the FBN
to the Office of Strategic Services (OSS). Assigned to the spy
agency as a counter-intelligence officer, Major White became deeply
involved in OSS "truth drug" experiments, in which distilled
marijuana was used in the interrogation of prisoners of war,
suspected double agents, and conscientious objectors. White's 'truth
drug" experiments continued until at least 1947.

White also was selected for the MKULTRA assignment because he was
a disgruntled employee. After the war he had returned to the FBN
and by 1950 was serving in New York City, where, apart from his
work as a federal narcotic agent, he participated in a number of
sensitive "political"

investigations for the U.S. Government. Among his special assignments,
White worked briefly with Assistant U.S. Attorney Roy Cohn and
Senator Joseph McCarthy (R-WI) rooting Communists out of the CIA
and the State Department, and from mid-1950 until early 1951 he
served as the chief investigator for Senator Estes Kefauver (D-TN)
in a nationwide expose of organized crime. But White was impetuous
and overstepped his bounds. First he incurred Harry Truman's wrath
by attempting to link the President to organized crime in Kansas
City. And in early 1951 he was fired from the Kefauver Committee
for leaking classified information. But the final blow came a few
months later when the Kefauver Committee aired allegations that
New York Governor Thomas Dewey had commuted Lucky Luciano's prison
sentence for a sizable campaign contribution. The allegation was
base on a memorandum White had written in 1947, and in retaliation,
the sullied Governor banished White from New York.

Dewey's edict was a disappointment to White, whose ambition at the
time was to serve as the FBN's district supervisor in New York.
But White was too important to be dismissed offhand: the MKULTRA
Program, which was to be established in New York, was already in
the works, and so Commissioner Anslinger simply reassigned him as
district supervisor in Boston. But White was rarely there. Instead
he kept his apartment in New York while awaiting his final security
clearance from the CIA. He was still an employee of the FBN, but
he was bitter about the roadblock in his narcotic law enforcement
career, and was hoping to find steady employment with the CIA. In
this spirit George White willingly and energetically embarked on
his CIA, MKULTRA assignment.

Partners in Crime

Although George White had notoriety and powerful friends, and
existed above the law as one of Espionage Establishment's "protected
few," he was a deeply conflicted man. His first wife, Ruth, deserted
him in 1945, calling him "a fat slob," and according to psychological
reports compiled while he was applying for employment with the CIA,
White compensated for that humiliation by seeking attention, and
by hurting people. This was the third reason why the CIA accepted
him for the MKULTRA job: George White was a sadist-masochist with
an unquenchable thirst for alcohol, kinky sex, and power.

The archetypal Double Man, White, however, had the ability to charm
as well as to repulse, and on 18 August 1951 he married his second
wife, Albertine Calef, a clothing buyer at the Abraham and Strauss
department store in Brooklyn. Described as a "bubbly" woman, Tine
was born in New York of Egyptian Jewish parents. When interviewed
for this article, Tine expressed nothing but devotion to the memory
of her former husband. She described him as "effective and punctual,
a great raconteur, a voracious reader of non-fiction books, and a
very good writer." According to her, George White was a liberal
Democrat who never picked a fight or resorted to strong-arm tactics.

Tine apparently turned a blind eye toward her husband's deviant
behavior.

They shared a comfortable apartment at 59 West 12th Street in
Greenwich Village, and hob-nodded with politicians, diplomats, law
enforcement officials, artists and writers. Tine thoroughly enjoyed
the fast company her husband kept, and in order to maintain her
exciting lifestyle, she stood by and did nothing when he poisoned
Barbara Smithe with LSD. Indeed, when this writer asked her what
George White did to Barbara on the night of January 11th, 1953,
the 80 plus year old woman descended into a string of expletives
that would have embarrassed a sailor. Her tirade left this writer
with the firm impression that she was thoroughly capable of having
been White's accomplice in his dirty work.

The Fatal Flaw

By 1952 White's advancement within the FBN had come to a halt, and
he was seeking full-time employment with the CIA. For both parties,
the timing could not have been better. In April 1952 White was
introduced to Dr. Sidney Gottlieb, a club-footed, stuttering,
Brooklyn-born officer in the CIA's Technical Services Division and
chief of its nascent MKULTRA drug-testing program. White and Gottlieb
formed an immediate rapport, and when White's background check was
completed in July 1952, Dr. Gottlieb hired him. For the next 13
years, White conducted MKULRA experiments, first in New York City
from 1952 through 1955, and then in San Francisco from 1955 until
his retirement from the FBN in 1965.

White's sadistic streak, underworld contacts, flexible status with
the FBN, and experience in "truth drug" experiments, combined to
make him the perfect choice to begin testing LSD on unsuspecting
American citizens. But White was an anomaly who secretly resented
the elitists who ran the CIA. He also had literary ambitions, and
against strict CIA regulations he kept a diary of his daily
activities.

According to his diary (portions of which were released to this
writer as part of a 1994 Freedom of Information Act Request), White
conducted his first LSD experiment on 21 September 1952 on a hapless
hoodlum named "Tony".

White did not record the results of that initial test, but his
diary indicates that he met regularly through November with Dr.
Gottlieb and other top CIA officials regarding his LSD experiments.
Notably, these meetings were only one side of his Jekyll-Hyde
personality; White simultaneously was working undercover on federal
narcotic cases and in that capacity he posed alternately as a
merchant seaman or a bohemian artist, and consorted with a vast
array of underworld characters, all of whom were involved in vice,
including drugs, prostitution, gambling, and pornography.

It was under his assumed, bohemian artist persona that White would
entrap most of his MKULTRA victims, including Barbara Smithe, whom
he first met on December 28th, 1952.

The Swingers

In order to avoid a lawsuit filed by this writer in federal district
court, the CIA in February 2000 released approximately 90 pages
from White's diary.

The CIA censors were required to redact the names of White's victims,
but they inadvertently released a set of pages naming several of
the victims, including Barbara Smithe and her husband, Eliot.

Eliot Smithe was located through a computer search, and generously
agreed to speak on the record both about his brief association with
George White, and the strange event that occurred in New York on
January 11th, 1953--an event Eliot was unaware of until he received
a letter, dated 18 July 1979, from CIA officer Frank Laubinger of
the Victims Task Force. The startling letter informed Eliot that
the CIA, at the request of Congress, was investigating the MKULTRA
Program, and that George White might have given Eliot's recently
deceased wife a surreptitious dose of LSD.

Born in 1926 and raised in a suburb of New York, Eliot was attending
Upsala College in New Jersey when, through a mutual friend, he met
Barbara Crowley on a blind date. Barbara was sixteen and a high
school senior from East Orange. They started going steady and when
Barbara became pregnant, Eliot, on his father's advice, asked her
to marry him.

"I was confused, not in love," he explains. "But it was the right
thing to do, and I thought love would follow."

Eliot and Barbara were married in September 1950 and their daughter,
Valerie, was born the following May. Eliot went go work for the
family business, the F. L. Smithe Machine Company, and Barbara
stayed at home and took care of their child. She was a good mother,
but naive, with no real interests of her own. Eliot was seven years
older and far more worldly wise.

He'd spent two years in the Navy and was a college graduate with
a degree in English literature, so Barbara tended to follow his
lead in everything.

Unfortunately, Eliot abused his power over Barbara, and projected
his personal problem onto his young wife. His biggest problem was,
in his own words, that he liked to "skirt the edge." He describes
himself as "immature, irresponsible, and erratic," and confesses
that he had tried psychotherapy as a way of understanding and
controlling his sexual compulsions. But the compulsions persisted,
even after he married Barbara. Their first apartment was on 168th
Street and Riverside Drive, but they soon moved to 74th Street and
Columbus Avenue, in Eliot's words, "to be closer to the action."

"The action" was promiscuous sex in the swinging Greenwich Village
scene.

Long before he met Barbara, Eliot had been indulging his sexual
fantasies in the Village, and at one fateful party he met Gil Fox,
a writer of soft-core pornography. Gil's books dealt with lesbian
sex in an inhibited 1950's fashion, referring, for example, to a
woman's "secret place." But sex clearly was the subject, and bringing
the reader to climax through masturbation at certain points in the
narrative was, according to Gil, the object.

Something of a sexual predator, Gil immediately recognized that
Eliot was looking for sexual adventures and he invited Eliot, and
Eliot's current girlfriend (not Barbara), to participate in a
"foursome" with him and his attractive wife, Pat.

"Gil was a charmer," Eliot recalls, "so we agreed. But it wasn't
a success.

He asked me to peel Pat's stocking off with my teeth, and I tried,
but I found myself getting red with rage. It was impossible for me
to act against my will. Luckily Gil realized this and told Pat to
let me go, which she did.

They treated me with kid gloves and because of that we remained
friends. We decided to forgot the whole thing."

After he married Barbara, Eliot continued to socialize with Gil
and Pat Fox.

In fact, Gil dedicated his book, And Baby Makes Three, to Barbara
and Eliot Smithe.

It was through Gil that Barbara and Eliot met George White.

Sex & Drugs & CIA Schemes

Gil Fox served in the U.S. Army Air Force as a bombardier in the
Second World War, and in 1948 he graduated from Bolling Green
College in Ohio with a degree in musicology. At Bolling Green he
met Pat, whom he describes as the most beautiful girl on campus.
They were married in their junior year and after graduation moved
to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where Gil taught music.

But Gil wasn't your typical trombone teacher. His real interest
was in writing about sexual deviation, especially lesbians and
fetishes. Pat shared his interests and after tiring of Chapel Hill,
they moved to New York in 1950. A Chapel Hill resident who enjoyed
spanking provided Gil with a letter of introduction to John Willie,
an artist whose specialty was drawing pictures of women wearing
high heels. Gil met Willie at a bar on McDougal Street and began
writing pornographic novels for Willie's Woodford Press.

Shortly thereafter Gil decided to self-publish. He set up Vixen
Press at his apartment at 125 Christopher Street, and began writing
a book a month under the aliases Dallas Mayo, Paul V. Russo, and
Kimberly Kemp.

The first mention of Gil Fox in George White's diary occurs on 6
November 1952.

"I knew George well," Gil explains. "Extremely well, in a strange
way.

George was into high heels. That was his major fetish, and we met
through John Willie. Willie was putting out a little magazine called
Bizarre that featured women in high heels, and White liked it. He
liked my books too, and he asked me to write about high heels.

"Later I did a semi-analysis of him," Gil explains. "As a child,
White had been infatuated with an aunt who wore high heels. He was
an interesting guy with a sensitive side. He loved to hold and pet
little birds, like canaries.

But he was a gin drunk. He drank morning noon and night. At parties
he would prepare two pitchers of martinis, one for everyone else,
and one for himself. He was playing out his sexual fantasies too.
One time Pat and I went with him to see his hooker girlfriend at
a hotel. She tied him up and strapped him to the bed and whipped
his ass. She had on high heels.

"Tine knew George was playing around," Gil adds, "but she was a
social climber and she pushed him to succeed. At the time George
was big into the New York mayoral election. The candidate he was
backing, Rudolph Halley, had been chief of staff on the Kefauver
Committee and was running for mayor on the Fusion Party ticket. If
Halley won the election, he was going to make George the Commissioner
of the NYPD.

"Anyway, as long as Tine wore high heeled boots, George tolerated
her. He would lace her into a special pair of high heeled boots.
Those high-heeled boots made up their sex life together."

An entry in White's diary notes that he and Tine had the Foxes to
their apartment for drinks on Friday night, November 28th, 1952.
Kai Jurgenson, a drama professor from Chapel Hill, and Kai's wife,
Jo, were also present--and White dosed them all with LSD. The
subjects, White wrote in his diary, had a "delayed reaction" and
not until the following day did Gil call him regarding Pat's
"symptoms." Gil, according to White's diary, was "puzzled."

As Gil recalls: "We were all boozing and smoking pot in those days,
including George, and one night George gave us LSD. He slipped it
to us secretly. Kai and Jo were visiting us at Christopher Street
and we went to the Whites. Afterwards we went slumming around the
Lower Village. It was snowing. We stopped the car on Cornelius
Street and the snow was red and green and blue--a thousand beautiful
colors--and we were dancing in the street. Jo thought she had lace
gloves up to her elbows. Then we went into a lesbian bar, but that
freaked-out Pat and Jo. Pat had trouble coming off the trip, and
Jo later went wacko, like Eliot's wife. And Jo eventually divorced
Kai too.

"I was angry at George for that," Gil concludes. "It turned out to
be a bad thing to do to people, but we didn't realize it at the
time."

Indeed, on December 14th the Foxes again socialized with the Whites,
as if nothing unusual had happened. And considering the proclivities
of the Foxes and their milieu, to a large extent that was true.

January 11th, 1953

"I was into people on the edge," Eliot explains, "and Gil said he
knew some people over on the West Side that I might like to meet.
I'm not trying to make excuses but I was twenty-five going on
seventeen, and the Foxes were our friends, and I had no idea that
White was a government agent. So Barbara and I went to see them.

"I remember George was fat and bull-like, with a large head and
knots on the back of his neck. He was gruff, but wore a nice suit
and was well spoken.

Tine was in her thirties and very pretty. I had an immediate sexual
attraction to her--which White recognized. He showed me a closet
full of her shoes, the kind with spiked heels. He was trying to
find out what fetishes I was interested in, and he alluded to Tine,
who was the bait, and was aware she was bait. Barbara was very good
looking too, and it was obvious that they were trying to get us
into a sex scene. But because White was so gross I moved away and
there never was one."

At least, there never was a sex scene with Eliot.

Eliot enjoyed the fact that his wife, like Pat Fox and Tine White,
attracted men. But while he was away on a business trip, the Whites
invited Barbara back to their place for dinner and drinks. It was
January 11th, 1953, and Barbara was so naive and so trusting that
she brought along her twenty-month old baby, Valerie.

Two other women were present that evening: Clarice Stein, a co-worker
of Tine's at Abraham & Strauss; and Francine Kramer, a linen buyer
at Macy's and a good friend of Tine's. As White noted in his diary,
Francine unexpectedly stopped by later that evening and interrupted
the LSD experiment he was conducting on Barbara and Clarice.

It was an experiment that ended traumatically for Clarice. As White
scribbled in his diary, Clarice got "the Horrors".

After being notified by the Victims Task Force that she too may
have been one of White's test subjects, Clarice wrote a letter to
the CIA describing what happened that night. In the letter, dated
November 12th, 1979, she explained that she lived nearby in the
Village and often went to the Whites' apartment after work. She
recalled that Barbara was present with her baby daughter that
fateful evening, and that George White served martinis, after which
Barbara, Tine, and Clarice embarked on a "laughing jag."

When Clarice got home, multi-colored images appeared whenever she
closed her eyes. She became frightened but when she called White,
he told her not to bother him. He hung up the phone. Her fear
evolved into abject terror. She promised herself that if she never
fell asleep again, she "would kill myself."

Clarice tried calling White three or four more times that night,
each time begging him to tell her what he had put in her drink so
she could call her doctor and ask for something to counteract it.
White was unsympathetic and hung up every time.

Finally in the morning Clarice called a friend (she did not want
to alarm her parents), who remained with her until the symptoms
subsided and she fell asleep later that night. Several days elapsed
before she returned to work, where, out of necessity, she continued
to have a professional relationship with Tine. Resentful and hurt,
Clarice cooled their friendship for several months. And yet even
though she could never forgive George White, she ineluctably drifted
back into his captivating social scene. To this day, Clarice remains
friends with Tine.

Her Secret Heart

For some reason, Barbara never told Eliot about her LSD experience.
This is one of the great mysteries of her mental illness. Why didn't
she tell?

It was not until CIA officer Frank Laubinger wrote to him in July
1979, on behalf of the Victims Task Force, that Eliot learned that
his wife had been given LSD. Barbara had died from cancer a mere
seven months earlier. She and Eliot had separated in 1957 after a
tumultuous marriage, and he'd had little contact with her for over
twenty years. Then Laubinger's letter unlocked all of his repressed
memories and emotions.

"Barbara was healthy in the early days of our marriage," Eliot
recalls. "She was a good wife and mother and I never sensed that
she fooled around. But I never knew what was in her secret heart.
I can't remember exactly when she began to deteriorate, but it was
several years into our marriage, and it got progressively worse.
We started going for counseling, but that didn't help, and eventually
we separated. She went to live with her parents and later, out of
a desire to possess her, I called and asked for a reconciliation.

"When I got to her house she was cowering in a corner. She thought
the Mafia was out to get her. Her parents were unable to cope with
the problem, so on our psychiatrist's advice I admitted her to
Stony Lodge Hospital in December 1958. Not long after that we got
divorced, and Valerie went to live with my parents.

"I can't explain why Barbara broke down," Eliot says matter-of-factly.
"The psychiatrist told me I was partially to blame, and it's true
that I wasn't the best supporter. But after talking with Laubinger,
I was ready to accept the possibility that her problems were the
result of a reaction to the LSD.

Laubinger implied that the LSD experiment had contributed to her
mental illness, so I decided to sue the CIA."

Wrangling with the CIA

In October 1979, Eliot hired the law firm of Rogovin, Stern, and
Huge to represent him on a contingency basis and to seek compensation
from the CIA on the premise that Barbara's mental illness was caused
by a surreptitious dose of LSD administered by George White. There
was just one catch. Senior partner Mitchell Rogovin, a former
assistant attorney general in the Johnson administration, had worked
for the CIA on a number of occasions, and that raised the specter
of a conflict of interest. But Rogovin assured Eliot that the CIA's
General Counsel did not anticipate any problems in that respect.

On the contrary, Rogovin told Eliot that the CIA had expressed a
desire to settle the case rather than litigate.

Laubinger, meanwhile, had contacted Clarice, and she too had decided
to sue the CIA. She was living in Florida with her husband Sol
Smithline, a retired attorney who represented her in the case.
Clarice had developed a rare type of cancer, and in her claim
against the CIA her physician stated his belief that the cancer
might have originated with the surreptitious dose of LSD.

Treatments for the cancer had saddled Clarice with diabetes, glaucoma
and cataracts, and she was suing the CIA for $150,000 in damages.

Clarice already was suing the CIA when Eliot hired the Rogovin law
firm.

They never actually met, but through Laubinger they became aware
of each other's cases, and they decided to join forces, at which
point Sol Smithline gave the Rogovin law firm a copy of Clarice's
claim. Barbara, of course, had died of cancer in February 1978,
and the fact that both women had developed cancer led all of the
plaintiffs to the inevitable conclusion that there was a causal
relationship between the LSD and the cancer. Taken together the
separate cases were a powerful one-two punch, and Eliot, based on
Rogovin's assurances, was certain the CIA would settle without a
fight.

Unanticipated problems developed, however, when the Rogovin law
firm began to research the long-term effects of LSD. The firm asked
several qualified doctors if there could have been a causal
relationship between the surreptitious dose of LSD and Barbara's
breakdown several years later, but a "qualified maybe" was the
unanimous response.

The CIA had reached the same conclusion and on February 15th, 1980,
shortly after the Rogovin law firm completed its research, CIA
attorney William Allard sent a letter to the Smithlines characterizing
their offer as "excessive" and asserting that there were no facts
on which to base the belief that Clarice's problems were caused by
LSD. Allard said her fright and anxiety had been limited to a few
days, and the only provable problem was the brief strain on her
friendship with Tine. Allard made the Smithlines a counter-offer
of $5000.

On March 1st the Smithlines lowered their price to $110,000. In
the letter to the CIA, Clarice said that the anxiety and terror of
the LSD trip had left an indelible stamp on her memory. She still
got an icy reaction whenever she recalled the incident.

On March 21st Allard again denied her claim and shortly thereafter
Clarice settled for $15,000--and a gratuitous visit to CIA headquarters
in Langley, Virginia.

Meanwhile, as Rogovin informed Eliot, the CIA changed its strategy.
Instead of settling, it decided to face the bad publicity a lawsuit
might generate.

But Eliot pressed ahead and on May 16th 1980 he submitted a $2,500,000
Claim for Damage, Injury, and Death against the CIA. The Claim
argued that Barbara began to manifest the mental problems that
contributed to her divorce from Eliot, and her inability to care
for Valerie, only after White slipped her an undetermined dosage
of LSD.

The Claim also argued that LSD contributed to Barbara's death. It
noted that White's boss, Dr. Gottlieb, had monitored the LSD tests,
but had made no effort to inform Barbara, even though he later
became aware of her subsequent mental problems.

Notably, Dr. Gottlieb in 1972 and 1973 destroyed all MKULTRA
operational files, including White's reports, in order to cover
their tracks.

The CIA's response was predictable in light of the Smithline case.
On July 28th 1980, CIA General Counsel Daniel B. Silver responded
to Eliot's Claim by saying there was no evidence that Barbara was
ever given LSD. Despite Clarice's testimony, Silver said it was
impossible "to reconstruct the details of the unfortunate and
reprehensible course of conduct followed by George White."

Seeking to bolster its case, the Rogovin firm sought a court order
for medical records from Stony Lodge Hospital, and it contacted
Barbara's psychiatrist. With these two actions, the case fell apart.

What the Medical Records Revealed

Barbara was admitted to Stony Lodge Hospital on December 2nd, 1958
when she was only 25 years old. Dr. Milton Berger, the psychiatrist
who had been treating her for over a year, referred her there. A
Clinical Summary composed during her initial intake described
Barbara as "above average intelligence" and "rather attractive".
But her hair was disheveled, and she was apprehensive, confused,
and restless. She was agreeable and tried to cooperate, but her
thoughts were scattered. She was depressed and afraid that gangsters
planned to get rid of her because she had talked much about the
labor rackets. She felt her telephone was tapped and that "they"
were listening. She expressed feelings of guilt about two affairs
she had had after her separation from Eliot. She felt she was paying
for her wrongdoing.

Barbara was diagnosed as having had "a symptomatic schizophrenic
episode."

Several days of testing followed this initial intake. During these
tests Barbara seemed fatigued and perplexed, with motor retardation.
She said her marriage was bad to begin with. "My husband kept
threatening to kill me and I felt someone was going to kill me--shoot
me," she told the doctors.

Barbara felt rejected by Eliot. She sensed that he didn't like her
or think much of her as a person, because he constantly tried to
get her to change her appearance and behavior. He demanded that
she wear tight clothes and pretend to be different people--a ballet
dancer in one instance, a burlesque queen in another--to satisfy
whatever fantasy he had at the moment. Seeking his approval, she
would pose for him and act sexy in front of other men.

Eliot would get angry if they did notice her, or if they did not.
Either way she lost, but for some reason, Barbara blamed herself.
"I would just never try to make a go of things, and I'd keep going
out to try to find someone else to fall in love with," she said.

Barbara described herself as follows: "I find myself very confused.
I have a short span of interest, and my mind wanders. I used to
think I was so right, but now I see that I did a lot of things that
caused a lot of friction."

Applying Freudian theories that were popular at the time, the
doctors diagnosed Barbara as having psychosexual confusion, problems
with authority, and a "precarious contact with reality." They said
she was a chronic paranoid with depression superimposed--that she
had doubts about her feminine identity, felt inadequate in personal
relationships, viewed her environment as rejecting and hostile,
and had a suicidal preoccupation.

The most damaging information for Eliot's lawsuit came from Barbara's
psychiatrist, Dr. Berger, who informed the Rogovin firm that he
would testify as a "hostile witness" against Eliot. Berger said
that Barbara told him that Eliot was associating with racketeers,
abused her verbally, and threatened her with a knife.

Despite the fact that there was hearsay evidence that Dr. Berger
had made sexual advances toward Barbara while she was his patient,
Eliot's lawyers considered his testimony to be a death warrant.
They abandoned the case in April 1981, saying it was too difficult
to prove a causal relationship between a dose of LSD administered
in 1953, and Barbara's breakdown in 1958.

Furthermore, the medical reports were specious, and the CIA would
certainly use them to discredit Eliot. The final nail in the coffin
was the possibility that Barbara's father may also have suffered
from paranoia.

"I should have settled right away," Eliot concedes, "but the climate
changed and the law firm abdicated. I was kind of tired of it by
then, anyway. They said they would help me find another lawyer,
but they didn't. Then they sent me a bill for about $1000. I never
paid it, and they never asked again."

Lingering Doubts

Eliot denies having any underworld connections. He did carry a
knife for a while, and he admits that this frightened Barbara. But
they were squabbling over alimony at the time, and Eliot believes
that their legal hassles may have motivated her to exaggerate her
concerns to Dr. Berger.

He does, however, admit that he played a role in her breakdown. "I
harassed her for a year after she kicked me out," he confesses. "I
thought of her as a possession. For me it was always just a sexual
attraction."

Perhaps subconsciously, Eliot may have wanted the relationship to
end. On the day she kicked him out, he appeared before his wife
and daughter (deleted at Eliot's request).

For all of these reasons, Eliot felt remorse. After Barbara was
re-admitted to Stony Lodge in 1962, he visited her and discovered
that the doctors had, in his opinion, damaged her brain with
electroshock. "They called it "regressive therapy"," he explains,
"but they never were able to reconstruct her personality."

Reconstructing History

What emerges from the story so far is the likelihood that Barbara
secretly went to the Whites' apartment looking for something she
could never obtain from Eliot. Had Eliot been a caring and supportive
husband, she might not have gone. Or she might have trusted him
enough to tell him about her visit and the bizarre experience that
ensued.

Possibly she enjoyed the LSD trip. But considering the paranoia
she developed later in life, it's more likely that she, like Clarice,
was traumatized, and that she buried the trauma in her subconscious
mind, like a war veteran burying some horrible combat experience,
only to have it emerge years later as Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

It is possible, too, that the CIA was responsible for exacerbating
the seeds of doubt, guilt, and self-loathing that evolved into
Barbara's paranoia.

White put LSD in her drink while she was in a compromising position.
She was with her infant daughter, without her husband. In a similar
situation, Clarice decided not to tell her parents--the authority
figures in her life at the time.

The overwhelming question is, what exactly happened to Barbara that
night?

Clarice cannot recall if Barbara left the Whites' apartment before
her.

Because she was tripping on LSD, she cannot even recall walking
home. She wonders why George White would do such a horrible thing
to a friend, let alone to a woman with a baby?

Did White take advantage of Barbara while she was defenseless under
the influence of LSD? Eliot wonders if White molested Barbara? If
White did abuse her while she was out of her mind on LSD, would
she risk telling Eliot, whom she knew to be jealous at worst, and
unsympathetic at best?

It is agonizing to imagine Barbara's predicament. How did she manage
to care for her child? Like Clarice, did she fear she might never
fall asleep again?

That terrifying thought made Clarice contemplate suicide. Did it
also plant the first suicidal thoughts in Barbara's mind?

Clarice does not recall what happened to Barbara that night, and
Tine isn't saying. So none of these questions will ever be answered.
But plenty of evidence suggests that the CIA conspired to conceal
the truth about what really happened on the evening of January
11th, 1953.

The Missing Pieces

Mitchell Rogovin initially told Eliot that his prior relationship
with the CIA was unrelated to the case. Later, however, he advised
Eliot that the CIA did intend to assert a conflict if the case went
to trial. Does that mean that Rogovin, in some way, was involved
in the MKULTRA Program?

In addition, the Rogovin firm may have given Eliot misinformation
about a crucial matter of law. In a February 8, 1980 internal
memorandum, the Rogovin firm said that Eliot could not sue the
federal government for battery, because White was working for the
CIA at the time he dosed Barbara.

But in testimony before the Senate in 1977, Gottlieb said that
White was being paid directly by the CIA for only three to six
months. Gottlieb could not remember the time frame, but he testified
that all of the operations White conducted involved Bureau of
Narcotics interests. A May 1953 entry in White's diary indicates
that he returned to the Bureau of Narcotics that month. And if
White was only on the CIA's payroll for three months, as Gottlieb
testified, then he was a bona fide federal law enforcement officer
when he dosed Barbara with LSD. The government could have been
sued.

Another questionable incident occurred in early 1981, when Rogovin
met with John Blake, the Staff Director of the Senate Select
Committee on Intelligence, whom he described to Eliot as "a former
Deputy Director of the CIA." In fact, Blake had been the CIA's
Deputy Director of Administration, and in that capacity was the
direct supervisor of CIA officer Robert Wiltse, the chief of the
Victims Task Force. According to Rogovin, Blake in turn introduced
him to John Bross, "an old-time CIA man who recently returned from
retirement to the Agency to assist in the transition to the New
CIA Director, William Casey." Rogovin expressed the hope that Bross
would convince the CIA to look more favorably on a pre-lawsuit
settlement. But that never happened, and one must wonder what role
Blake actually played in the negotiations.

Finally, a July 1978 memorandum from John Blake to the Director of
Central Intelligence, Stansfield Turner, refers to a strategy paper
for defending the CIA against lawsuits by victims of the MKULTRA
Program. The CIA's Assistant General Counsel Anthony Lapham composed
the paper. While serving as a special assistant to Assistant
Secretary of the Treasury David Acheson in the mid-1960s, Lapham
was responsible for liaison with the CIA regarding its relationship
with the Bureau of Narcotics. In this capacity Lapham was aware of
the existence and purpose of several MKULTRA "safehouses," the
first of which was established by George White in Greenwich Village
in June 1953. Indeed, in 1966, Lapham directed FBN agent Andrew
Tartaglino to shut down a second MKULTRA safehouse on 13th Street
in New York.

Furthermore, on January 23rd, 1967, Lapham met with Dr. Sidney
Gottlieb and several other CIA and Treasury officials in sensitive
discussions concerning an investigation by Senator Edward Long
(D-MS). As Chairman of the Subcommittee on Invasion of Privacy,
Long was probing allegations of illegal wiretapping by various
branches of the U.S. government, and his staff had stumbled on the
existence of the MKULTRA safehouses. A January 30th, 1967 memorandum,
written by Gottlieb, records the CIA's on-going efforts to conceal
its involvement with the MKULTRA safehouses from Senator Long. When
asked if the CIA was using the Narcotics Bureau as a "front" for
domestic operations, Gottlieb said no. He told the Treasury Department
officials that the "pads" were only used for routine narcotics
operations.

Lapham knew this wasn't true. And ten years later he designed the
CIA's strategy against MKULTRA-related lawsuits. If anyone had a
conflict of interest in the Victims Task Force case it was Tony
Lapham. But his activities have never been questioned, let alone
investigated.

The Causal Relationship

Entries in his diary conclusively prove that George White gave
Barbara Smithe LSD. A surreptitious dose of LSD is battery, and
Clarice testified that it was delivered to Barbara. So why didn't
Rogovin pursue this issue?

Why did he emphasize the potential damage of Dr. Berger's testimony
instead, when there was hearsay evidence that Berger had made sexual
advances toward Barbara while she was his patient?

Considering this, one must also wonder if the electroshock treatments
were prescribed for Barbara's benefit, or if they were designed to
erase memories of George White from her troubled mind?

Although his firm generated evidence to support the theory that
LSD was the "precipitating agent" in Barbara's paranoia, Rogovin
seems to have ignored it. As the Rogovin firm noted in a January
15, 1980 report it provided to Eliot, LSD was thought to precipitate
a "model fit" of schizophrenia. There was a consensus in the research
community that LSD flashbacks could occur and cause mental illness,
and there was agreement that unwitting ingestion was an important
contributing factor to adverse LSD reactions. Unwitting ingestion
represented "a maximally stressful event because the perceptual
and ideational distortions then occur without the saving knowledge
that they were drug induced and temporary."

One researcher concluded, "the hallucinogenic experience is so
striking that many subsequent disturbances may be attributed to it
without further justification."

Even the CIA had uncovered evidence that LSD may have caused
Barbara's breakdown. A year before the Rogovin firm conducted its
research into LSD, Director of Central Intelligence Stansfield
Turner, in a letter dated January 10th, 1979, asked the Department
of Health Education and Welfare (HEW) to study the problem. In his
personal response to Turner, HEW Administrator Joseph A. Califano
said, "We believe it may be assumed that where studies with these
drugs were conducted in academic institutions by reputable
investigators, any short-term consequences would have been detected.
But if the CIA administered these drugs to persons under other
circumstances, we believe you should take all possible steps to
ascertain whether any individuals might have been injured as a
consequence of their participation in such research."

George White gave Barbara Smithe LSD in his apartment, while she
was with her 20-month old daughter, and yet the Rogovin firm decided
to drop the case. Why?

Lowlifes on LSD

Deviants were not the only subject population of the CIA's LSD
experiments.

As an August 1963 report on MKLUTRA, authored by the CIA Inspector
General John Earman, clearly stated, "the effectiveness of the
substances on individuals at all social levels, high and low, native
American and foreign, is of great significance and testing has been
performed on a variety of individuals within these categories."

Entries in George White's diary indicate that several MKLUTRA
victims were dosed at a safehouse he rented with CIA money in
Greenwich Village. In June 1953 White received $4100 from Dr.
Gottlieb. He deposited the money in the National City Bank and used
it to rent an apartment at 81 Bedford Street.

Helping White decorate the apartment with Toulouse-Lautrec posters
was his "Special Employee" Pierre Lafitte, who also hired prostitutes
to lure victims into White's lair. Also assisting White were Gil
and Pat Fox.

"Tine knew that George was dosing people," Gil Fox explains. "It
was his job, and when George was working LSD he rented an apartment
in the Village at 81 Bedford Street. He set himself up as an
artist/painter named Morgan Hall. He had Pat, who was an artist,
paint murals on the walls."

Other people helped White as well, including other FBN agents, and
White's close friend Irwin Eisenberg. A wealthy industrialist from
California, Eisenberg owned an expensive home in Larchmont, New
York. White often visited Eisenberg there, and in his diary he
describes swimming in the estate's spacious pool.

According to CIA officer Laubinger, Eisenberg was a "benefactor of
the arts" who in 1953 was sponsoring the career of Linda King, an aspiring
New York actress. An entry in White's diary notes that he invited
Linda to the Bedford "pad" on 12 September 1953. A subsequent entry
indicates that Linda became "psychotic" and that Tine took her to
Lenox Hills Hospital on East 77th Street and Park Avenue. When
Linda arrived at the hospital she claimed White had "drugged" her.
But nothing came of the incident. Evidently the CIA arranged an
accommodation with the medical department of the New York City
Police department to protect White from any hassles with victims.

"We knew he was a federal narcotic agent and was giving people
LSD," Gil Fox says. "He would invite people to Bedford pad, dose
them with LSD, and then take photographs of them through a two-way
mirror. But I never got into it.

We weren't interested in that aspect of his life. He wanted to keep
that aspect of his lifestyle secret. At the time LSD was great fun,
that's all.

Then sub-agent Olson walked out the window, and that's when the
shit hit the fan."

On 26 November 1953, Defense Department employee Frank Olson, who
had been working on the MKULTRA Program, allegedly ran through a
window and fell to his death from the tenth floor of the Statler
Hotel in New York City.

Several days before, Olson had been given a surreptitious dose of
LSD by Dr. Gottlieb. Olson's death was ruled a suicide by the CIA and the
NYPD.

Epilogue

Clarice Smithline never forgave George White. She describes him as
a mean man who drank all day and kept lots of guns on the table.
Once he crushed her curtains because, he said, they were too pretty.

But she respected him, too. After he retired as the FBN's District
Supervisor in San Francisco, White invited his father to live with
him and Tine at their apartment in town. There was a fire in the
apartment and George rescued his father. But he could not get back
inside to save his beloved parrot.

"Why," Clarice asks, "did he dose his friends with LSD?"

The short answer is, so the CIA could learn how to entrap and
discredit people. In one alleged case, White, on behalf of his
friend, New York mayoral candidate Rudolph Halley, slipped LSD to
an opposition speaker at a Halley political rally.

That is what MKULTRA was all about: entrapping and compromising
politicians, friends and foes alike. It is well known within the
intelligence research community that the CIA tried to dose Fidel
Castro with LSD, and that the FBI made illegal tapes of Dr. Martin
Luther King, Jr. engaging in extra-marital sex, in a blatant attempt
to force him out of politics.

This is the truly frightening aspect of MKULTRA, and it was known
not only to espionage insiders like Anthony Lapham, but also to
the Victims Task Force. As Frank Laubinger recalls, the Victims
Task Force was led to believe that White "was mixing it up with
drug dealers; that he would slip it to people to aide in their
debriefings. But there was no evidence White was giving pot to drug
dealers."

Instead, White was giving LSD to average, vulnerable people like
Barbara Smithe.

"Why give them LSD then let them wander into the night?" Laubinger
asked this writer. "Was it a lark? Was he serious? This is not
standard scientific procedure."

Indeed.

"We were interested to find out why," Laubinger concludes, "and we
would have stayed with it for several years, but the powers that
be told us to put it behind us."

Laubinger pauses. "If they really wanted to find out what happened,
it would have been investigated by Congress."

And if not for the fact that so many Congresspersons have stayed
at CIA safehouses, that might actually be a valid course of action.

The Known Victims

Barbara Smithe: died of cancer after suffering serious mental
problems.

Valerie Smithe: lives in a foreign country.

Clarice Stein Smithline: settled with the Whites and the CIA.

Francine Kramer: when contacted by CIA officer Frank Laubinger she
was courteous, but did not recall who was present on the night of
11 January 1953.

Gil and Pat Fox: swingers who didn't really care.

Kai Jurgenson: never found

Jo Jurgenson: advised by her psychiatrist not to assist the Victims
Task Force.

Linda King: never found by the Victims Task Force. There was no
record at Lenox Hills Hospital, and when Laubinger contacted White's
childhood friend, Irwin Eisenberg, he was on his deathbed and did
not want to be bothered. She is said to be living in Los Angeles,
her home for over 50 years.

Herman Ginsberg and his wife Bobbie: Herman Ginsberg was an executive
with Crown Cork & Seal. White's diary indicates they were dosed on
13 September 1953 at the Bedford "pad." White wrote that Herman
told him of a "psychic transformation" after using "the hypertension
drug." When contacted by CIA officer Frank Laubinger, Ginsberg was
not helpful and said he did not believe they had been dosed.

Ruth Kelly: a dancer in San Francisco, never found by the Victims
Task Forcer, said to be alive and well and living in Miami.

Laubinger could not find Pierre Lafitte either, despite the combined
efforts of the DEA , CIA and FBI, and the knowledge that he lived
in and operated a restaurant in New Orleans.

George White: in 1963 he became seriously ill with cirrhosis of
the liver and by 1965 his weight was down to 135 pounds. Upon his
retirement he was appointed fire marshal in Stimson Beach, California.
He continued to drink and surround himself with adoring deviants
until his death in 1975. (White wrote famous letter to Sid Gottlieb,
in which he said: "I was a very minor missionary, actually a heretic,
but I toiled wholeheartedly in the vineyards because it was fun,
fun, fun. Where else could a red-blooded American boy lie, kill,
cheat, steal, rape and pillage with the sanction and blessing of
the All-Highest?")

Albertine White: the only person who knows the truth.



Douglas Valentine is the author of The Hotel Tacloban, The Phoenix
Program, and TDY, all of which are available through iUniverse.com.
For information about Mr. Valentine and his books and articles,
please visit his website at http://www.douglasvalentine.com
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Mon Jul 15, 2013 11:51 am

Image
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Mon Jul 15, 2013 10:58 pm

http://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/2011 ... d-of-love/

Nancy and the Brotherhood of Love

Posted on August 23, 2011

Image


Nancy Hamren and I went to McCheznie Junior High in Oakland, then Oakland High. Bill Arnold was the love of Nancy’s life. She was the first girl I ever kissed. In 1966 we became roommates on Pine Street, where we partied with two members of the Jefferson Airplane when they visted the two Swedish Airline Stewardesses down the hall. We later lived in a commune called ‘Idle Hands’ with the two daughters of Jayrd Zoerthian who has been titled ‘The Last Bohemian’. We partied at the Zorthian Ranch when we were eighteen.

Nancy dated Stanley Augustus Owsley, and went on a double date with my sister Christine, with the LSD chemist Nick Sand. Christine had come to live with me at Idle Hands. The man behind Owsley,who grew up with Tim Scully, was my patron. These people are associated with the Brotherhood of Eternal Love who I took LSD with in Laguna Beach.

Nancy lived on Ken Kesey’s ranch and is now a co-owner of the Springfield Creamery made famous by Nancy’s Yogurt. I have been on the bus. This is the history I and my late sister are, and will forever be, famous for. We were at the epicenter of something truly unique, something that changed the world forever. I have been recording my Bohemian Roots that led to the experiment to end all experiments. It is my goal to legitimize the so called Hippie Movement so it can go foreword without the drugs.

Jon Presco

Shortly after high school, in 1966, Nancy moved to Haight Ashbury in San Francisco to attend college. “It was a wonderful, exciting time,” she says. “The civil rights movement and Vietnam protests, and free speech movements were happening, and a big part of this consciousness-raising was a discussion of natural foods.”

By 1969 she was living in Mill Valley with her sweetheart Gordon Adams. Gordon was a friend of Ken Kesey, counterculture leader and author of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Ken owned a farm outside of Eugene, Ore., where many of his band of Merry Pranksters occasionally stayed. He asked Gordon and Nancy to come to Oregon to help take care of the farm while he was in London recording stories with the Beatles.

Post Woodstock, when Ken Kesey decided to close his farm to guests, Nancy needed a new home and a new job. “I heard Ken’s brother, Chuck, had a little creamery in Springfield, Ore., and was looking for a bookkeeper,” she says. At the creamery, Nancy soon found herself sharing her knowledge of making yogurt. “It was a time when we all were focused on taking our destiny into our own hands; the Whole Earth Catalogue was our beacon.” she says. “We shared all kinds of things: how to build a cabin; how to make your own bread; how to get rid of ants the natural way. In San Francisco, I had had access to lots of good yogurts,” she says. “But in Oregon, the majority of commercial yogurt was the over-sweetened variety.”

http://www.nancysyogurt.com/our_creamer ... _nancy.php



Tim Scully first met William “Billy” Mellon Hitchcock, grandson of William Larimer Mellon and great-great-grandson of Thomas Mellon, through Owsley in April 1967. They became friends and Billy loaned Scully $12,000 for the second Denver lab in 1968. The product from the lab was distributed by the Brotherhood of Eternal Love; Scully was connected with the Brotherhood via Billy Hitchcock.

Sand started a company with his friend disguised as a perfume company – the real intent of the company was to manufacture Mescaline and DMT. Sand was starting to attract the attention of police because of his lengthy visits to Milbrook and when Owsley visited Milbrook in April 1967 Sand was inspired to head to San Francisco.

Sand’s San Francisco Lab was operational by July 1967. Sand wanted to make LSD but was lacking the necessary precursors. Owsley had given him a formula for STP and would tablet Sand’s product from his own lab in Orinda.

In December 1968 Sand purchased a farmhouse in Windsor, California, at that time a small town in rural Sonoma County. There he and Tim Scully, another psychedelic chemist, set up a large LSD lab. Scully and Sand produced over 3.6 million tablets of LSD, which was distributed under the name “Orange Sunshine”.

Sand was prosecuted for LSD manufacture following a lengthy investigation by federal narcotics agents in the early 1970s. He was found guilty and sentenced, in 1976, to 15 years in a federal penitentiary.

Sand’s attorney appealed his conviction and Sand was released on $50,000 bail. While out of custody he went underground in 1976 and remained a fugitive from federal agents for two decades.

http://www.zorthian.com/

What started as a Happening emerged into a global frenzy and inspired people, still today. According to Babbs, a Happening is something that “can’t be planned ..It just happens! It takes place in public or private and involves everyone present. In Phoenix in 1964, we painted ‘A Vot for Barry is a Vot for Fun’ on the side of the bus and waved flags and played stars and stripes forever..this qualified as both a prank and a Happening.” .[1]

The most famous happening of the Pranksters was the nationwide trip on the Furthur. While on a trip to New York, the Pranksters needed an automobile that could hold fourteen people and all of their filming and taping equipment. One of the members saw a “revamped school bus” in San Francisco that was for sale. The Pranksters bought the bus and named it “Furthur”. Babbs was the engineer for the bus. Babbs is mostly credited for the sound systems he created for the Trips Festival. Prior to Babbs’ creation, it was discovered that particular music usually sounded distorted when cranked to high levels because of the cement floor on the San Francisco Longshoreman’s Union Hall(where the Trips Festival was taking place). Babbs being a sound engineer resolved the problem. He made sound amplifiers that, when turned up to high sound levels would not create distorted sounds.

The purpose for this Happening was to link the psychedelic tribes from the west and the east. Many people tend to remember the east tribe because of Timothy Leary and LSD. Many misjudgments have been made on the Pranksters and their promotion of LSD. However, Babbs makes it clear that “just because we used LSD does not mean we were promoting its use. (LSD) is a dangerous drug..[It’s] a way, I guess, of breaking down the conformist ideology.” .[2]

http://www.zorthian.com/ranch.html

Timothy Leary on Nick Sand

Question:
After moving west to California in the late 60s, you became
connected with a group called the Brotherhood of Eternal Love. In
1973, Nicholas Sand, a chemist for the Brotherhood, was arrested in
St. Louis for operating two LSD laboratories. Indictments in
California around the same time also named Ronald H. Stark, who
allegedly operated an LSD lab in Belgium. In the book Acid Dreams,
the authors name Stark as being a CIA informant. In retrospect, do
you believe the CIA was involved in putting acid out on the street to
preempt a possible political revolution?

Leary: I don’t know about that. But it’s a matter of fact that most
of the LSD in America in the late 50s and early 60s was brought in by
the CIA and given around to hospitals to find out if these drugs
could be used for brainwashing or for military purposes.

You talked about Nicholas Sand. The whole concept of the Brotherhood
of Eternal Love is like a bogeyman invented by the narcs. The
brotherhood was about eight surfer kids from Southern California,
Laguna Beach, who took the LSD, and they practiced the religion of
the worship of nature, and they’d go into the mountains. But they
were not bigshots at all. None of them ever drove anything better
than a VW bus. They were just kind of in it for the spiritual thrill.
Nick Sand was a very skillful chemist. He made LSD that the
Brotherhood used. He was a very talented chemist.

The guy Stark. I was accused of heading this ring. I never met Stark.
Never knew he existed. I heard he’s a European money launderer. But
that was not relevant to what was going on out here. What is relevant
to your question is … yes, the CIA did distribute LSD. As a matter
of fact, the DEA (the Drug Enforcement Agency) is out there right now
setting up phony busts, setting up people, selling dope. And it’s
well known that during the Reagan administration Ollie North was
shipping up tons of cocaine to buy money to give to the Contras and
the Iranians.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Templar-d ... ssage/2323



Scully grew up in Pleasant Hill, which was across the Bay from San Francisco. In eighth grade he won honorable mention in the 1958 Bay Area Science Fair for designing and building a small computer. During high school he spent summers working at the Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory on physics problems. In his junior year of high school, Scully completed a small linear accelerator in the school science lab (he was trying to make gold atoms from mercury) which was pictured in a 1961 edition of the Oakland Tribune. Scully skipped his senior year of high school and went directly to U.C. Berkeley majoring in mathematical physics. After two years at Berkeley, Scully took a leave of absence in 1964 because his services as an electronic design consultant were in high demand. Tim Scully first took LSD on April 15, 1965.

Scully knew the government would move quickly to suppress LSD distribution, and he wanted to obtain as much of the main precursor chemical, lysergic acid, as possible. Scully soon learned that Owsley Stanley possessed a large amount (440 grams) of lysergic acid monohydrate. Owsley and Scully finally met a few weeks before the Trips Festival in the fall of 1965. The 30-year-old Owsley took the 21 year old Scully as his apprentice[3] and they pursued their mutual interest in electronics and psychedelic synthesis.

Owsley took Scully to the Watts Acid Test on February 12, 1966, and they built electronic equipment for the Grateful Dead until late spring 1966. In July 1966 Owsley rented a house in Point Richmond, California and Owsley and Melissa Cargill (Owsley’s girlfriend who was a skilled chemist) set up a lab in the basement. Tim Scully worked there as Owsley’s apprentice. Owsley had developed a method of LSD synthesis which left the LSD 99.9% free of impurities. The Point Richmond lab turned out over 300,000 tablets (270 micrograms each) of LSD they dubbed “White Lightning”
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Tue Jul 16, 2013 11:48 am

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicholas_Sand

Nicholas Sand

Nick Sand (born May 10, 1941)[1] is a cult figure in the psychedelic community for his work as a clandestine chemist from 1966-1996 for the Brotherhood of Eternal Love. [2][3] Sand was also Chief Alchemist for the League for Spiritual Discovery at the Millbrook estate in New York and was credited as the "first underground chemist on record to have synthesized DMT".[4]

Background

Sand grew up in Brooklyn, New York and by his late teens he was already aware of the LSD scene developing around Greenwich Village. While attending Brooklyn College, Sand became interested in the teachings of Gurdjieff, the study of different cultures, and various Eastern philosophers.[5]

In 1961, he made its first mescaline experience[1].

Graduating in 1966 with a degree in Anthropology and Sociology, Sand followed Leary and Alpert to Millbrook and became a guide to the psychedelic realm for many of the people who came to Millbrook. During this time Sand also began extracting DMT in his bathtub.[5]

Sand later started a perfume company as a front for the production of Mescaline and DMT.[6] During this time Sand began to attract the attention of the police due to his lengthy visits to Milbrook and chose to move his lab to San Francisco after Owsley visited Milbrook in April 1967.[citation needed] Sand's San Francisco Lab was operational by July 1967. Sand wanted to make LSD but was lacking the necessary precursors. Owsley had given him a formula for STP and would tablet Sand's product from his own lab in Orinda.

In 1968 Sand was introduced to fellow chemist Tim Scully, who had been training under Owsley Stanley until Stanley's legal troubles in 1967.[7]
In December 1968 Sand purchased a farmhouse in Windsor, California, at that time a small town in rural Sonoma County. There he and Scully set up a large LSD lab. Here they produced over 3.6 million tablets of LSD that was distributed under the name "orange sunshine".[2]

Prosecution

In 1972 Sand was prosecuted along with several members of the Brotherhood for the manufacturing of LSD, who had been the focus of a lengthy investigation by federal narcotics agents in the early 1970s.[8] In 1976 Sand was found guilty partially due to the testimony of Billy Hitchcock and other "snitches" and was sentenced to 15 years in a federal penitentiary.[2]

Sand's attorney appealed his conviction, based on the fact that Sand never produced LSD-25, but a similar substance called ALD-52, which was not illegal at the time.[2] Sand was released on $50,000 bail and while out of custody, went underground in 1976 and remained a fugitive from federal agents for two decades.

Resurfacing

In September 1996, Sand surfaced as a drug suspect in Vancouver, British Columbia. According to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, he was living under the name David Roy Shepard and his true identity was not discovered until his fingerprints were sent to the FBI lab in Washington, D.C. nearly two months after his arrest.[9] The RCMP says Sand was one of seven people who were operating one of the largest LSD labs in North American history, a facility near Port Coquitlam, British Columbia, that produced enough acid to dose every man, woman and child in Canada 1.5 times.

Sand served prison time in Canada and the United States from 1996 to 2000 for the manufacture of psychedelic drugs including, but not limited to, MDMA, MDA, DMT, LSD, and mescaline. He also produced an analog of LSD known as lysergic acid sec-butylamide. Sand was sentenced to nine years in Canada but was returned to the United States as he was still living underground due to charges of LSD production from the early 1970s. Nicholas Sand is credited with the largest poly-drug clandestine laboratory to be encountered in Canada.[citation needed] His laboratory was secreted in an industrial complex in a suburb of Vancouver, British Columbia. His lab was of a level of sophistication never encountered before by police investigators or clandestine lab specialists from Health Canada. Sand worked in his lab several months each summer and resided in Mexico for the rest of the year. For 1995, he estimated a net income of 1.8 million dollars for three months of work. The substances produced in his lab were destined for a worldwide market, and also included MDP-2-P or piperonyl methyl ketone (an MDMA precursor), which was quite rare in Canada at the time.

As of 2001, Sand is on a monitored release program and resides in San Francisco, California. He is writing a book and practicing Buddhism.

References

^ a b Erowid Nick Sand Vault
^ a b c d Nocenti, Annie. Baldwin, Ruth. Krassner, Paul. The High Times Reader. Nation Books. 2004
^ Oroc, James. Tryptamine Palace: 5-MeO-DMT and the Sonoran Desert Toad. Park Street Press. 2010.
^ Wilcock, David. The Source Field Investigations Penguin Group. 2011.
^ a b Lee, Martin A. Shlain, Bruce. Acid Dreams: The Complete Social History of Lsd. Grove Press. 2007
^ The Brotherhood of Eternal Love Drug Library.net
^ Schou, Nicholas. Orange Sunshine: The Brotherhood of Eternal Love and Its Quest to Spread Peace, Love, and Acid to the World. Thomas Dunne Books. 2010. p. 154-155
^ New York Magazine. Feb 18, 1991. p. 37
^ Distant Karma Catches Up With the Brotherhood's Brenice Lee Smith OC Weekly
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Tue Jul 16, 2013 6:14 pm

http://kalisherni.tumblr.com/post/55574 ... y-khushboo

Image

Zakhm/Zakham~ {wound} by Khushboo Kataria/kalisherni
march 2013

ancestral wounds resurface
brooding manifestation in every generation
sporadic disaporic tears have formed rivers
swelled dil
swelling duniya
weary aankhen
eyes reveal thousands of cuts
verbal bullets that shred
vermillion rivers leave skeletal flowers, bones that still bleed
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Tue Jul 16, 2013 7:35 pm

http://d-scholarship.pitt.edu/10746/

PSYCHEDELIC ORIENTALISM: REPRESENTATIONS OF INDIA IN THE MUSIC OF THE BEATLES

Cunningham, Trent

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Abstract
In 1960s Britain and America, a mystical Orientalist view of India held sway: India was seen as a land of trippy gurus holding secret, ancient, psychedelic wisdom that could liberate the young hippie from the system of stuffy, bourgeois Western values. There was of course no ethnographic basis to this view – Indian philosophers, intellectuals, and musicians in the West resented the association with drugs – but mystical India was a powerful symbol nevertheless. The Beatles‟ “Tomorrow Never Knows” was one of the earliest and most potent manifestations of what I will call “psychedelic orientalism” within rock music. A close look at this song, and others like it from the Beatles‟ middle period, will reveal some of the functions of this construction, as well as some of the motivations behind it. Studying the Beatles‟ music in a historical and cultural context will uncover certain dynamics of power, themes of appropriation and cultural hegemony. These songs were written by young musicians who came of age during the last days of the British Empire, and in writing them they were enacting a musical relationship with their former colony. A close analytical look at the unique stylistic divergences of these songs, understood through Timothy Leary‟s manual The Psychedelic Experience and Ravi Shankar‟s tutelage of George Harrison, as well as through sociological perspectives on the drug-induced experience, will reveal the role that Indian musical elements (and the ancient Oriental wisdom they reportedly represented) were made to play. Finally, the perspectives of postcolonial criticism will show how that role given to India was a subordinate one, built upon an attitude of power that characterized the Empire.
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Wed Jul 17, 2013 10:29 am

Apocalypse Now?

December 21, 2012

By Sasha Lilley


The end of history arrives today. While the Maya never actually predicted that the world would end on 12.21.12, apocalypse tourists have been flocking to Guatemala for the occasion, much to the chagrin of many indigenous people there. Others have been heading to a small village in the French Pyrenees, where they believe a spaceship, hidden in a mountain peak, will whisk those present at the appointed time to a new era. In southern Ohio, New Agers inspired by rightwing conspiracist and erstwhile sports commentator David Icke, have been caught planting quartz crystals and aluminum foil (baked in muffin tins) in the Native American Serpent Mound, the largest effigy earthwork in the world, to open a “stargate” when doomsday arrives this week.

These predictions are easy to laugh off. Certainly, anything that brings together Icke, evangelical Christians, and Brittany Spears is hard to take seriously. Yet the allure of the notion of collapse and rebirth has a strong hold on more than the New Agers. It resonates with what many feel about the times we live in, which are indisputably catastrophic. Global warming is not something looming in the future, but is here already, as the inundation of Manhattan and the destruction of the Jersey shore have shown (and have been even more magnified in the Global South, hit as they have been by the worst effects of climate change). The global financial crisis has upended the lives of those who did not already feel like their jobs were increasingly precarious. Why not hope that out of the ashes of the present, a better—or different—world might take shape?

The left has a long history of catastrophism—expecting collapse to lead to social transformation. So has the far right, with its emblem of the phoenix muscularly rising out of the embers of the old. For the left, such hopes have frequently been based on the idea that capitalism will run up against internal limits and then come crashing down. The beginning of the financial crisis was met with glee from some quarters that finally the behemoth that is capitalism, that we had not been able to vanquish over the last four decades of accumulated defeats for the left, had imploded under its own weight. Unfortunately, such hopes were short lived as the crisis proved—and as crises under capitalism tend to prove—an opportunity for elites to force concessions out of workers that would have been more difficult in less fraught times. In the United States, profits are at an all time high, while wages are at a record low as a percentage of GDP. So much for the self-destruction of capitalism.

The idea that the current order will be transformed through collapse and rebirth is frequently connected to peak oil—the notion that readily accessible petroleum reserves are becoming scarcer and scarcer, ultimately leading to the unraveling of industrial society and the blossoming of a new way of living. Like apocalypse-predictors of old, peak oil catastrophists have no compunction about putting a date on the collapse, frequently in the immediate future. But as with the financial crisis, they lose sight of the destructive dynamism of capitalism, which sees such barriers as not final roadblocks but hurdles to overcome, opening up new avenues of investment and profitability. Hence, rather than teetering on the edge of a Mad Max-like scenario of oil scarcity and industrial collapse, the International Energy Agency recently announced that the United States will surpass Saudi Arabia in the next decade as the world’s leading oil producer, thanks to a destructive boom in hydraulic fracturing or fracking. Unfortunately, it appears that we have more than enough accessible petroleum to roast the planet, long before reserves run out.

Since these ideas tend to be misguided, why are such scenarios so appealing to those on the left? And why have they become particularly appealing—at least in certain forms—in recent decades? I would suggest that their allure is rooted in a politics of despair, resulting from the defeats the left has suffered over the past forty years and the ebbing of hopes for large-scale anti-capitalist social transformation. Or, to quote a phrase often attributed to Fredric Jameson, it’s become easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism. That’s unfortunate, because there is nothing eternal about capitalism. It is a fairly new system historically and hopefully we will usher it out one day. But expecting it to collapse under its own weight or because of peak oil is ill advised. Such catastrophism—that harrowing external forces will bring about changes that we have lost faith in our own capacity to achieve—lends itself to bad politics: to the limited, sometimes desperate, actions of the few, and the paralysis of the many.

Fear and fear-based politics, do not tend to serve the left in the way that they serve the right. The idea of a cleansing catastrophe flows naturally from reactionary politics. The right thrives on fear. And it has a simple solution for the alarmist scenarios that it is constantly invoking: scapegoat the “enemy”—whether immigrants or other easily targeted populations—and demand authoritarian fixes. These do not work for the left (nor should they). Fear tilts right. Leftists enter into fear mongering at their peril.

A new beginning emerging from a fiery end has been predicted countless times before. In 1844, the followers of American Baptist preacher William Miller sold their possessions in anticipation of the return of Christ. What did not, in fact, follow is known as The Great Disappointment. It is unlikely that the aftermath of the 2012 apocalypse will leave such a mark. Who remembers now the rapture predicted on May 21st of last year? Or the follow-up, “corrected” date of October 21st? But it should remind us nonetheless of the limits of catastrophist avenues for social change–and the need to go about constructing our own real collective ones, drawing on our collective strengths, not our weaknesses.


Sasha Lilley is a radio broadcaster, writer, and coauthor of Catastrophism: The Apocalyptic Politics of Collapse and Rebirth, published by PM Press.


http://www.pmpress.org/content/article. ... 1122258581
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Wed Jul 17, 2013 1:44 pm

http://www.social-ecology.org/2013/04/a ... ian-tokar/

Apocalypse, Not?” by Brian Tokar
by Brian Tokar on April 11, 2013

ImageA review of Catastrophism: The Apocalyptic Politics of Collapse and Rebirth, by Sasha Lilley, David McNally, Eddie Yuen and James Davis (Oakland: PM Press, 2012, 178 pp.). Also available at Toward Freedom and ZNet:


The year 2012 didn’t bring us the end of the world, nor the end of capitalism and Coca-Cola that Evo Morales promised last summer. It still remains to be seen whether or not it will have ushered in the resurgence of indigenous resistance that was proclaimed by the more than 40,000 Zapatistas who marched in Chiapas last December 21st. But whatever new political developments the coming years may or may not bring upon us, it’s clear that we haven’t seen the end of the apocalyptic outlook that 2012 came to represent.

Popular culture, of course, has been reveling in apocalypse and catastrophe for a long time. From serious literature to pulp fiction, from punk and alt-rock music to teen novels, from the art house to the multiplex – not to mention the ultra-violent world of video games – American culture has been saturated with images of apocalypse since long before 2012. With the catastrophic weather predictions of scientists’ climate models coming to fruition with devastating accuracy, decades earlier than anticipated, we’re not likely to see the end of apocalyptic thinking for some time.

What does this mean for social movements, and for those of us who seek a more just human order in the midst of climate breakdown and persistent financial uncertainty? Can the specter of apocalypse serve to invigorate popular movements, or is it merely an outlet for escapism and despair? What of the significant ranks of radical environmentalists who now believe that a restoration of biodiversity can only follow the collapse of civilization? Are such views part of the solution or part of the problem?

A new book, Catastrophism: The Apocalyptic Politics of Collapse and Rebirth, by four activist-scholars associated with the Berkeley-based Retort Collective is an essential contribution to this profoundly important discussion. Each of the authors in turn offers their distinct perspective, scholarship and insights to the analysis of “catastrophism” among environmentalists, in movements of the left and the right, and in popular culture itself. Overall, the contributors make a compelling case for the view that apocalyptic thinking is a dead-end for the left, a chronic enabler for the right, and an outlook that radical movements embrace at their peril.

A foreword by Doug Henwood introduces the volume on an inviting though frequently sarcastic note, asserting from the outset that catastrophic thinking is fundamentally paralyzing for popular movements. He quotes Engels’ biting critique of Malthus’ still-popular forecasts of doom as “the crudest, most barbarous theory that ever existed, a system of despair,” arguing instead that “recovering a utopian sensibility is about the most practical thing we could do right now.” This is a theme I’ve explored in my recent book on climate justice, and one that has been significantly elaborated by a new generation of utopian scholars; it is unfortunate that none of the main contributors to this book chose to elaborate any further on this point.

However, we are offered a panoramic and often illuminating review of the uses and abuses of catastrophe in various spheres of thought. Sasha Lilley’s introduction brings up two of the volume’s persistent themes: that “[t]he politics of fear… play to the strengths of the right, not the left,” and that catastrophic thinking consistently fails to realize its promises of a “shortcut” to a better world. Popular commentators like Chris Hedges and Naomi Wolf, who tend to see fascism lurking around every corner, tend to lose sight of the ways in which the “politics of fear” lead to “panic and powerlessness,” ultimately serving the agendas of the extreme right.

Eddie Yuen, editor of two essential volumes that analyzed the emergence of anticapitalist movements in conjunction with the Seattle WTO protests, focuses his chapter on the prevalence of apocalyptic thinking in the environmental movement. While there is no question that we are in a “genuinely catastrophic moment” in human history, the litanies of calamity often emphasized by environmentalists have led to a “catastrophe fatigue” that ultimately pacifies rather than energizes most people. Yuen invokes the familiar figures of Thomas Malthus and Al Gore to bookend his analysis of how catastrophic predictions often fail to usher in positive social outcomes. (Gore, it is rarely acknowledged, was among the first to predict that an inadequate response to climate change would likely lead to increased political repression.) Further, false predictions of catastrophe, from the “population bomb” to the “Y2K” frenzy – fueled in part by Helen Caldicott and many environmentalists – often serve to discredit environmental predictions in the eyes of much of the public.

Apocalyptic scenarios, in Yuen’s words, serve as “a kind of ‘substitutionism,’ in which a miraculous event … transforms consciousness, wipes the slate clean and abruptly changes the world [without] the need for difficult organizing and conflictive politics.” For Yuen, today’s popular forecasters of ecological collapse are more likely to fuel right wing fanaticism, e.g. calls to seal the borders to immigrants, than to facilitate a progressive awakening. Real solutions “must be prefigurative and practical as well as visionary and participatory,” appealing to “community and solidarity” rather than “austerity and discipline,” but unfortunately the book offers few suggestions for how to actualize this. Radical disaster relief efforts, from Common Ground in New Orleans to Occupy Sandy, offer one inspiring model of how to help further utopian expectations in apocalyptic times, and the analysis here could have been strengthened by a discussion of such examples, among others.

The book’s two in-depth historical chapters are more expansive in their scope, and are generally the most satisfying. Author and Against the Grain radio host Sasha Lilley offers a rather thorough critical analysis of catastrophic trends on the left, from the mid-nineteenth century to the present. Her approach draws on a distinction once raised by Lukács between a “deterministic” view that ever-deepening crises of capitalism are historically inevitable, and a “voluntarist” outlook, emphasizing the revolutionary potential of popular responses to worsening economic conditions. Of course these two approaches are often linked like hand and glove. While Marx emphasized the primacy of class struggle, his collaborators and successors were more inclined to invoke the inevitability of crisis and capitalism’s “certainty of doom.” In the early 20th century, Rosa Luxemburg believed capitalism would “collapse against absolute limits,” and the Stalinist left often saw world revolution as imminent, but thinkers such as Gramsci and the council communist Anton Pannekoek offered a more measured view, anticipating the ways in which crisis often serves to strengthen the capitalist system. Lilley is rather dismissive of both Wallerstein’s World System Theory and Baran and Sweezy’s often prescient analyses of the system’s current tendencies toward stagnation, but generally locates these views within a clear and engaging historical perspective.

The origins of the “voluntarist” approach emerge somewhat earlier, with roots in mid-nineteenth century Russian nihilism, among other outlooks. In the US, the strongest arguments for a “worse the better” view are often rooted in the dramatic labor upsurge of the 1930, but Lilley argues convincingly that the Depression Era labor movement was the exception that proves the rule. More typically, Lilley argues, labor militancy has risen during periods of economic expansion and rising expectations, a trend that also significantly shaped the movements of the 1960s. When leftists have “hailed fascism and dictatorship” as harbingers of an impending revolt, they have usually been severely disappointed, from the Italian and German communists of the 1920s and ’30s to the Weathermen and the Red Army Faction of the late sixties and 1970s.

From Estonia in the 1920s to Ché’s Bolivia in the sixties, beliefs that revolution would inevitably emerge from “objective conditions” and severe state repression have led revolutionaries toward disaster more often than triumph. But this hasn’t prevented ambitious revolutionaries from reveling in elevated expectations. Lilley reports that both Mao in China and an obscure Argentine Trotskyist named Posadas declared that socialism would inevitably emerge from a nuclear war. While the right more commonly “thrives on fear,” she correctly emphasizes that “[r]adical mass movements typically grow because they offer hope for positive change.”

Equally expansive in its historical scope is the Irish writer and filmmaker James Davis’ chapter on the catastrophism of the right. Apocalyptic visions, Davis argues, are “central to the propaganda and ideology of the modern right,” and he offers a wealth of evidence to bring that point home. As with the dual outlooks shaping left catastrophism, the right’s version also assumes two interrelated forms. “Disease catastrophism” is rooted in scenarios of impending societal collapse, from Spengler’s “twilight of the West” to Huntington’s “clash of civilizations,” while “cure catastrophism” is expressed most fully in a variety of revenge scenarios from the fantasy of a redemptive race war to the Christian millenarian idea of the rapture. Davis argues that both are rooted firmly in the “narrative model of religious apocalypse.” (Unfortunately, these two poles of right catastrophism are not defined unambiguously until close to the end of the chapter.)

Davis recounts the origins of modern Christian evangelism from the early 19th century to the rise of Billy Graham in the 1950s and the movement’s increasing politicization in reaction to the expansive social progress of the New Deal and the 1960s. While this story has been told elsewhere in much more detail, Davis’ account underscores the ideological roots of various trends on the right. For example, right wing catastrophism has long been steeped in conspiracy theory, with 1970s rightists attacking the Frankfurt School for originating “cultural Marxism” (a view apparently borrowed from the publications of former leftist Lyndon LaRouche), and of course today’s scapegoating of post-sixties intellectuals such as Frances Fox Piven. For the right, Western civilization is always on the decline, whether the primary cause is “permissive egalitarianism,” the “evil empire,” (both terms are rooted in the writings of Leo Strauss), or today’s Islamic extremism. Europe’s Muslim populations have been targeted by numerous xenophobic right wing movements in recent years, and Davis dissects the origins of ideas that were expressed most disturbingly in the manifesto of the mass murderer Anders Breivik, issued just prior to his lethal attack on a social democratic youth camp in Norway in 2010.

While the right often adopts a veneer of anti-statism, it invariably extolls the state’s military and police powers. Even while condemning the state as a “vehicle of liberal progress,” rightists tend to celebrate the “harsh and previously off-limits policies” that result from casting immigration and crime as catastrophic problems. The politics of fear spread by right catastrophists serves to “disorient the left” and often put it on the defensive. “Fear,” Davis argues,” is the bedfellow of right wing catastrophism and it is expertly manipulated by the state.” Examples abound, from the origins of the Cold War, to the (Cheney, Rumsfeld, et al.) Project for a New American Century’s predictions of a “new Pearl Harbor,” and even some of the rhetoric that accompanied the 2008 bailout of major US banks. Davis’ view that “[c]atastrophism for the right is the fight against equality and for war, hierarchy and state violence,” is supported by a wealth of evidence, both historical and contemporary, in theory as well as in practice.

Following these two wide-ranging historical examinations, York University political scientist David McNally offers some fascinating glimpses of the ways that visions of apocalypse are depicted in popular culture. How can we best comprehend the pervasive images of zombies and vampires in pop culture today, and what different forms has this taken in other parts of the world? The most fully developed discussion here is of the varied images and meanings associated with the Frankenstein story, from its early nineteenth century origins until today. According to McNally, Mary Shelley’s London was literally immersed in a “corpse economy,” where markets in human body parts were central to the rise in medical knowledge and education, even as the brutal rhythms of early industrial labor proliferated images of the “living dead.” When Hollywood adopted the tale, however, Frankenstein’s monster was deprived of the articulate self-consciousness that was so central to Shelley’s narrative, foreshadowing the increasingly zombified image of workers under late capitalism.

McNally explains the rise of the zombie myths that accompanied the globalization of West African slavery and its fullest elaboration in the cane fields of Haiti. Zombies started out as slaves, but soon became a metaphor for the “dispossession of the self” through wage labor. In Hollywood during the 1960s and seventies, zombies became flesh-eaters, and thus an even more extreme metaphor for manic consumerism. Interestingly, zombies and witches have become significant cultural images in modern-day Africa, where the ravages of the global economy have devastated communities, and spread unprecedented ravages of disease and displacement. Apparently, images of zombie revolt have also taken hold in contemporary Africa, but McNally offers no further details on this, instead transitioning to a lengthy description of a film by Wes Craven, whose allegorical images of inner city zombies come across as a little too obvious. McNally concludes by urging that we read present-day catastrophes dialectically, to examine their underlying truth while eschewing simple invocations of apocalypse. This chapter could have been more satisfying, I’d suggest, if he’d more fully followed that advice.

In some ways that can also be said about the book as a whole. As a work of historical analysis, its scope is impressive and often enlightening. The authors persist in pressing readers to avoid simplistic conclusions and the superficial appeal of apocalyptic images, a compelling and important message for today’s movements. But except for several broad invocations of the imperative of mass organizing, they don’t offer many contrasting images of a better way forward. This is a significant oversight if we acknowledge that current trends toward increasing environmental and financial chaos are both likely to continue. If we accept the warnings of climate scientists, the devastating droughts, floods and wildfires of recent years are only the first stirrings of an increasingly unstable climate regime, which will have genuinely catastrophic effects on communities throughout the world.

This may be news to many in the US, but in much of the global South people have been living with this altered reality for several years now. Even if greenhouse gas emissions are sharply curtailed this decade – a scenario all but precluded by recent non-developments in the UN-sponsored international climate negotiations – the persistence of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere means that everyone will be living with the consequences of increasing climate chaos for our entire lifetimes. It’s clear that a more dialectically nuanced understanding of catastrophe and the underlying potential for positive transformation is needed if we are to avoid a collapse into total despair. The transformative potential of apocalyptic scenarios has often been central to utopian thinking, from the radical millenarian movements of the Middle Ages to the 20th century revival of the utopian tradition in the writings of H.G. Wells and others. While the authors of Catastrophism offer an essential antidote to a superficial politics of apocalypse and redemption, it will be up to others, especially the emerging generation of activists and theorists, to articulate an outlook that can inspire the profound social transformations that today’s environmental and financial crisis render more necessary than ever.


Brian Tokar is a lecturer in Environmental Studies at the University of Vermont, director of the Institute for Social Ecology (social-ecology.org), author, most recently, of Toward Climate Justice: Perspectives on the Climate Crisis and Social Change (New Compass Press, 2010), and co-editor (with Fred Magdoff) of Agriculture and Food in Crisis: Conflict, Resistance, and Renewal (Monthly Review Press, 2010).
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Wed Jul 17, 2013 2:15 pm

Pariahs Made Me Do It: The Leary-Wilson-Warhol-Dali Influence (Mondo 2000 History Project Entry #3)

By R.U. Sirius

As you already have surmised, I came up through the New Left Revolution years. From 1968 – 1971 — during and just after high school, I knew that the revolution had come. Some as yet inchoate mix of left anarchist radicalism and newly psychedelicized youth mutation was simply taking over the world by storm. As Hunter Thompson famously rhapsodized, “There was madness in any direction, at any hour… You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning.… Our energy would simply prevail…We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave.” Right (or left) or wrong, it was exciting and energizing to be a part of it.

But by the mid-70s, people on the left radical countercultural scene had become — at best, mopey and quarrelsome — and, at worst, either criminally insane or very tightly wound politically correct environmentalist/feminist/health-food scolds. People were either bitchy; or in retreat — smoking pot and listening to the mellow sounds of James Taylor and Carole King.

I didn’t know it consciously at the time, but I needed to create a space within my psyche that liberated me from the constancy of moral judgment and eco-apocalypse mongering — and one that also didn’t represent a retreat into the mediocrity of middle class liberalism.

Thus, I was attracted to flamboyant “hip pariahs” who were very un-left, politically incorrect… even, in some cases, right wing.

Image
And then there was Dr. Timothy Leary. There was the legendary Leary… all that stuff about turning on tuning in dropping out the 1960s. I had read and enjoyed his book High Priest, but actually thought of him as something of an old guy who seemed to be trying too hard to fit into the youth culture. It was the Leary of the ‘70s that fascinated me. During the height of my own romantic infatuation with “The Revolution,” Leary had made a heroic prison escape. He had been spirited away by the guerrilla warriors of the Weather Underground and had shown up in Algeria with Eldridge Cleaver’s exiled Black Panther chapter, pronouncing unity between the psychedelic and leftist and black revolutions and promising to help Cleaver form a revolutionary US government in exile. At that time, all of these people — Weather Underground leader Bernadine Dohrn, Eldridge Cleaver, Timothy Leary, Stew Albert — who led a contingent of Yippies over there to cement the alliance — were icons to me, more or less on a par with The Beatles and The Stones (or at least, the Jefferson Airplane and Jimi Hendrix).

Then, after conflicts with Cleaver — and just as the buzz of the revolution was souring, he had disappeared, showing up only in a few gossipy pieces that portrayed him hanging out with fellow exile Keith Richards and issuing bon mots that were more of the flavor of Oscar Wilde than Che Guevara.

Then, he was caught in Afghanistan and shipped back in chains to the USA facing a lifetime in prison. And not long after that, rumors circulated that he was ratting out the radical movement. This was very depressing. But at the same time, occasional interesting signals emerged — usually published in the underground press — from Folsom Prison where he was being held. Strange little quotes about being an intelligence agent for the future; about “offering the only hopeful eschatology around today;” about dna being a seed from outer space; about “going home” to galaxy central and human destiny being in the stars; about how he was writing a “science faction” book.


http://www.acceler8or.com/2012/01/paria ... t-entry-3/
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Wed Jul 17, 2013 2:22 pm

Image

http://www.alterati.com/blog/?p=647 discusses a largely forgotten (even by his adherents) work by Timothy Leary in comics form. Neurocomics was published in 1979 by Last Gasp and expounds on Leary’s ’8 circuit’ model of the brain; Alterati compares the Leary comic work with one of our best (and most transcendental) contemporary comics creators, Alan Moore, as well as a link to a torrent of a scanned version of the out-of-print Neurocomics.
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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Wed Jul 17, 2013 2:36 pm

http://www.rollingstone.com/culture/new ... d-20110314

Owsley Stanley: The King of LSD

Would the Summer of Love have ever happened without Stanley, the reclusive acid impresario who turned on the world?
Imageby: Robert Greenfield


No one did more to alter the consciousness of the generation that came of age in the 1960s than Augustus Owsley Stanley (who passed away March 13, 2011). Long before the Summer of Love drew thousands of hippies to Haight-Ashbury, Owsley was already an authentic underground folk hero, revered throughout the counterculture for making the purest form of LSD ever to hit the street. Yet today, at seventy-two, he is all but forgotten.

Almost forty years to the day after he blew minds at the Monterey International Pop Festival in June 1967, with a brand-new batch of "Monterey Purple," Owsley is checking out of a motel in nearby Carmel. Three years ago, he underwent extensive radiation for throat cancer, losing thirty pounds in the process. He is moving so slowly that someone from the front desk comes to the room to ask if he ever intends to leave. Ignoring the inquiry, Owsley roots through his bags for a large state-of-the-art conical burr grinder and a white funnel-shaped device to heat water so he can make coffee from beans he grew and roasted at home in Australia. As the water boils, he packs up a Braun food mixer and the vast array of other gadgets he carries with him.

This article appeared in the July 12-27, 2007 issue of Rolling Stone. The issue is available in the online archive.

He puts on a pair of old bluejeans that are now several sizes too big and places a brown Thinsulate stocking cap on his head. With his dark-brown goatee and a gold hoop dangling from his left ear, he looks like an older, careworn version of the Edge from U2. Unable to swallow solid food since the cancer treatments, he laments that he can no longer enjoy dining out with friends. Suddenly, his eyes redden and he is nearly reduced to tears. Quickly regaining control, he says, "But, hey, I'm alive, right?" Without waiting for an answer, he stalks out the motel-room door.

In the Oxford English dictionary, the word "Owsley" is listed as a noun describing a particularly pure form of LSD. But manufacturing acid is not the only accomplishment on Owsley's résumé. He was the Grateful Dead's original sound man and their initial financial benefactor. Without his technical innovations — he was one of the first people to mix concerts live and in stereo — the band might never have emerged from the San Francisco scene. And because he had the foresight to plug a tape recorder directly into the sound board during Dead shows, the music the band made at the peak of its power has been gloriously preserved in recordings still being issued in the series titled Dick's Picks, for which Owsley continues to receive royalties.

While doing two years in federal prison in the early Seventies for manufacturing acid, Owsley taught himself how to make jewelry. He has parlayed this talent into a career, crafting belt buckles and pendants for everyone from Keith Richards to Jackson Browne that sell for as much as $20,000.

For the past twenty years, Owsley has lived off the grid in a remote section of Australian rain forest. Until now, he has never been willing to speak extensively about his life. (He has also never willingly allowed his photograph to be taken.) "I'm not really interested in talking about myself," he says. "I don't want my life exposed publicly. I'm interested in the work I've done and the things I've discovered and in some of my philosophical stuff, because I think it's of value, but I'm not into being a celebrity, because I think celebrity hood has no value to anyone, least of all to the celebrity. I've watched wonderful people get destroyed by it."

From the time he was a child, what made Owsley unique was his extraordinary family background and the power of his mind. His grandfather, also named Augustus Owsley Stanley, was a trust-busting Democratic congressman from Kentucky who spent twelve years in the House of Representatives. Elected governor in 1915, he became a United States senator and served on the commission that oversaw construction of the St. Lawrence Seaway. Owsley adored his grandfather, but his relationship with his parents was difficult. "Neither one of them really wanted to be parents," he says. "They had no skills at it. If you feel you can't love someone and you are universally told that you must love, you become very guilty."

After the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Lexington was blown out from under Owsley's father during the Battle of the Coral Sea in World War II, he began drinking heavily and became a lifelong alcoholic. When Owsley was eight, his parents separated and his mother took him to Los Angeles. Three years later, she sent him back to Virginia to live with his father. Owsley says that psychological problems made him "unmanageable in the public-school system," so his father enrolled him in Charlotte Hall, a military prep school in Maryland. The headmaster later told High Times magazine that he remembered Owsley as "almost like a brainchild, a wunderkinder, tremendously interested in science." Even then, Owsley was possessed by what he calls "this rogue, get-high nature of mine" and was expelled in ninth grade for smuggling alcohol into school during homecoming weekend, getting virtually every student on campus "blasted out of their minds."

When he was fifteen, Owsley spent fifteen months as a voluntary patient in St. Elizabeths Hospital in Washington, D.C., where the poet Ezra Pound was also confined. "I was just a neurotic kid," he says. "My mother died a few months into the experience, but it was there I sorted out my guilt problems about not being able to love my parents, and I came out of it pretty clear." After leaving the public high school, where his physics teacher gave him a D for pointing out that she had contradicted the textbook, he attended the University of Virginia for a year. "I never took notes when I was in college," he says. "During the first week of the course, I'd buy my textbooks and read them all through. Then I'd sell them all back to the bookstore at full price as if I'd changed classes, because I never needed to look at them again."

Over the course of the next fourteen years, Owsley — known to his friends as "Bear" because of his prematurely hairy chest as a teenager — enlisted in the Air Force, became a ham- radio operator, obtained a first-class radiotelephone operator's license, worked at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California, and served as a summer-relief broadcast engineer at TV and radio stations in Los Angeles. He married and divorced twice, fathered two children and got himself arrested on a variety of charges. He also studied ballet, Russian and French.

In 1963, Owsley moved to Berkeley so he could take classes at the university, where the student protest movement was growing. A year later, Mario Savio made his historic Free Speech Movement address from atop a police car to student protesters gathered outside Sproul Hall. In Berkeley, as well as across the bay in Palo Alto, young people seeking a new way to live had begun using LSD to break down conventional social barriers. Until then, the drug had been available in America only to those conducting serious medical research. In 1959, the poet Allen Ginsberg took LSD for the first time, at the Mental Research Institute in Palo Alto. A year later, the novelist Ken Kesey was given acid at the Veterans Hospital in Menlo Park as part of a federally funded program in which volunteers were paid twenty dollars a session to ingest hallucinogens. Taking acid soon became the watermark. Until you had tripped, you were not part of the new culture. But before Owsley came along, no one could be sure that what they were taking was really even LSD.

In Berkeley, Owsley began smoking pot and selling "Heavenly Blue" morning-glory seeds (250 for a dollar), which served to get people "not high but weird" when taken in great quantity. In April 1964, Owsley took LSD. "I remember the first time I took acid and walked outside," he says, "and the cars were kissing the parking meters." During the same week, he also heard the Beatles for the first time. "It was amazing," he told Jerry Garcia biographer Blair Jackson. "It all seemed to fit together. We had Meet the Beatles! within a few days of it coming out. One of my friends who was a folkie brought it in and said, 'Man, you gotta listen to this!' And I was off and running. I loved it."

Later that year, a friend gave Owsley 400 micrograms of pure LSD manufactured by Sandoz Laboratories in Switzerland, where Dr. Albert Hofmann had first synthesized the drug in 1938. At the time, Owsley was living with a Berkeley undergraduate chemistry major named Melissa Cargill. They decided to try to make acid that was "at least as good or better than any pharmaceutical firm." It took Owsley just three weeks in the UC Berkeley library to learn everything he needed to know about the process.

Around this time Owsley also began studying The Kybalion, a book of purported ancient wisdom that elucidates the seven basic principles of alchemy, which he describes as "mental transformation," explaining, "It was never about transforming substances. Those were all allegories. The lead and the gold is the lead of the primitive nature into the gold of the enlightened man. Alchemy didn't talk about lead into gold until it had to deal with the church in the early Middle Ages."

For Owsley, The Kybalion "was perfect because it put into total context all the things I had experienced on acid. The universe is a creation entirely within a being that is outside time and space, and dreaming what we are. Everything is connected, because it's all being created by this one consciousness. And we are tiny reflections of the mind that is creating the universe. That's what alchemy says."

To generate enough cash to purchase the raw materials to make LSD, Owsley and Cargill began making and selling methedrine in a makeshift bathroom lab in Berkeley. On February 21st, 1965, police raided the house and confiscated various chemicals, including a substance they wrongfully identified as speed. Owsley hired the vice mayor of Berkeley as his attorney, who "forced them in court to furnish us with a sample, which we submitted to an independent laboratory that proved them wrong, leading to the dismissal of all charges."

After obtaining a court order that made the police return his lab equipment, Owsley and Cargill split for Los Angeles. Because the materials needed to synthesize LSD were still only available to serious researchers, he formed the Bear Research Group and paid $4,000 every three or four weeks to the Cyclo Chemical Corporation for bottles of lysergic monohydrate, the basis for LSD.

From the start, Owsley felt that his state of mind while he was making acid would affect the nature of the product. "It's something that goes from being absolutely inert to so powerful that twenty-five micrograms will cause a change in your consciousness," he says. "You're concentrating a lot of mental energy on one package. And if you believe, as I did, that the universe is a creation in the mind of a being that is creating time and space, then everything is mental. So when you had something that affects the minds of thousands and thousands of people in the palm of your hand, how could you not believe that your state of mind mattered?"

By May 1965, he was back in the Bay Area with 3,600 capsules of extraordinarily pure LSD, dubbed "Owsley" by a pot-dealing folk guitarist friend. "I never set out to 'turn on the world,' as has been claimed by many," Owsley says. "And I certainly never made $1 million from drugs. I just wanted to know the dose and purity of what I took into my own body. Almost before I realized what was happening, the whole affair had gotten completely out of hand. I was riding a magic stallion. A Pegasus. I was not responsible for his wings, but they did carry me to all kinds of places."

Throughout the summer of 1965, in a big house down in La Honda, about forty miles south of San Francisco, Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters hosted wild parties with guests that included Hunter S. Thompson, Neal Cassady, Allen Ginsberg and various Hell's Angels. When Owsley showed up one day during the fall, he walked over to Kesey and handed him a couple of hits of acid. Because Kesey had his own source (a Prankster known as "John the Chemist") and was suspicious of newcomers, he did not seem all that interested in the gift. After sampling it, he changed his mind.

"For most people," Owsley says, "the proper dose is about 150 to 200 micrograms. When you get to 400, you just totally lose it. I don't care who you are. Kesey liked 400. He wanted to lose it." Thanks to Owsley, the Pranksters now had enough LSD on hand to begin throwing parties at which everyone could get a dose. Kesey and the Pranksters called these gatherings the Acid Tests, a series of mind-blowing events at which people tripping on LSD were exposed to flashing strobe lights, tape loops and sometimes — if the band was not too stoned — even a set by the Grateful Dead.

On December 11th, 1965, the Dead played at the Muir Beach Acid Test in a lodge by the sea in Marin County. The sound of Jerry Garcia's guitar grabbed hold of Owsley, and he freaked out on acid for the first time. In The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, Tom Wolfe described how Owsley completely lost control of himself, dissolving into "gaseous nothingness" until he became nothing more than a single cell. "If he lost control of that one cell, there would be nothing left," Wolfe wrote. "The world would be, like, over." "I lost control of that cell as well," Owsley says. "They were all gone. That was the initiation. The price I had to pay to get through the gate. Ego death. I thought I was going to die, and I said, 'Fuck it.' And that was good."

Running out a side door during his freakout, Owsley leaped into his car, gunned the engine and promptly ran into a ditch. When he finally returned to his physical body and found it mostly intact, Owsley was horrified by the way Kesey and the Pranksters were messing with people's minds. "Kesey was playing with something he did not understand," Owsley says. "I said to him, 'You guys are fucking around with something that people have known about forever. It's sometimes called witchcraft, and it's extremely dangerous. You're dealing with part of the unconscious mind that they used to define as angels and devils. You have to be very careful, because there are all these warnings. All the occult literature about ceremonial magic warns about being very careful when you start exploring these areas in the mind.' And they laughed at me."

Even as he was freaking out that night, Owsley experienced the single insight that would shape his life for years to come. The Grateful Dead were not just good — they were "magic personified." Then and there, he decided to "work for the most amazing group ever, have a fabulous time of it and try to make a positive contribution." Though Grateful Dead bass player Phil Lesh was the band member with whom Owsley would forge the closest ties, he saw Jerry Garcia as "the sun in the center of the solar system. Take out the sun, and the planets all go their own way. Garcia was the center. Once he stopped exploring, the whole scene stopped exploring."

Three weeks later, on January 8th, 1966, Owsley sashayed into the Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco for another Acid Test. Barely recognizing him as the freaked-out dude from Muir Beach, Lesh would later write that Owsley looked like "some Robin Hood figure out of swashbuckling antiquity." By then, Lesh, like so many others in the burgeoning Bay Area scene, had been tripping on Owsley's product for more than a year.

"So you're Owsley," Lesh said. "I feel as if I've known you through many lifetimes."

"You have," Owsley replied, "and you will through many more to come."

When Owsley asked Lesh what he could do for the band, the bass player said they had no manager and offered him the job. Owsley declined. When Lesh said they also had no sound man, Owsley figured that, based on his audio-engineering experience in radio and television, this was something he could handle.

At the time, live sound at rock concerts was extremely primitive. Musicians plugged their instruments into amplifiers connected to single-channel speakers. There were no onstage monitors, so musicians couldn't hear one another. Owsley wanted the Dead not only to be clearly heard but also in stereo, a concept so far ahead of its time that it would be ten years before such systems were installed in movie theaters. Thanks to Owsley, the Dead were soon playing through four immense Altec Voice of the Theatre A7 speakers powered by four McIntosh 240 stereo tube amplifiers as delicate as they were huge.

In February 1966, Owsley and the Dead moved to Los Angeles for another series of Acid Tests. Owsley rented a pink stucco house in Watts, next door to a brothel, where they all lived together. For the Dead, the good news was that they now had nothing to do all day but jam. The bad news was that since Owsley was paying the rent, he expected them to adhere to his unconventional ideas and beliefs. He was convinced that human beings were natural carnivores, not meant to eat vegetables or fiber. "Roughage is the worst thing you can put through your body," he says. "Letting vegetable matter go through a carnivorous intestine scratches it up and scars it and causes mucus that interferes with nutrition."

For the next six weeks, the Grateful Dead and their girlfriends ate meat and milk for breakfast, lunch and dinner. "I'll never forget that when you'd open the refrigerator, there were big slabs of beef in there," Rosie McGee, Phil Lesh's girlfriend at the time, later told Garcia biographer Jackson. "The shelves weren't even in there — just these big hunks of meat. So of course behind his back, people were sneaking candy bars in. There were no greens or anything — he called it 'rabbit food.' "

Nor was there any point in trying to argue with Owsley about it. As Dead rhythm guitarist Bob Weir says, "Back then, if you got involved in a discussion with him, you kind of had to pack a lunch." Years later, Jerry Garcia would recall, "We'd met Owsley at the Acid Test and he got fixated on us. 'With this rock band, I can rule the world!' So we ended up living with Owsley while he was tabbing up the acid in the place we lived. We had enough acid to blow the world apart. And we were just musicians in this house, and we were guinea-pigging more or less continually. Tripping frequently if not constantly. That got good and weird."

By the time the Dead returned to San Francisco in April, Owsley had already made it plain to the band that as far as he was concerned, there was only one way to do everything: his way. "He was magnanimous about it," remembers former Grateful Dead lyricist John Perry Barlow. "If you wanted to be an idiot and do something any way but his, that was your decision. And he was not surprised you would choose to be an idiot. Because you were. And he was probably right." Years later, Lesh would write that Garcia once told him, "There's nothing wrong with Bear that a few billion less brain cells wouldn't cure."

The band's impatience with how long it took Owsley to set up its equipment and then take it back down again soon led to a parting of the ways. Even though Owsley had already put about $50,000 into the band and would no longer be working for them, he told the Dead to pick out new equipment and send him the bill. After selling his Voice of the Theatre speakers and McIntosh amps to Bill Graham, who installed them in the Fillmore, Owsley donated most of the band's other gear to the Straight Theater, a hippie venue on Haight Street. Concerning Owsley's legacy to the Dead from this period, Dennis McNally, the band's biographer, says, "Bear gave them a vision of quality that quite frankly influenced them for the next thirty years. And that alone gives him credibility for that scene."

By the time LSD became illegal in California on October 6th, 1966, Owsley had become a mythic figure. He lived in a picturesque Berkeley cottage filled with high-end stereo equipment where he kept an owl to which he fed live mice. An article in The Los Angeles Times described him rolling up to a Sunset Strip bank on a red motorcycle with crumpled bills stashed in his helmet, pockets and boots. "The money flow was very embarrassing," he recalls. "I did not feel it was mine, since what I was doing was in my mind a service to my community. I did not buy expensive things. I generally was not much of a consumer."

Concerning much of what has been attributed to him during this period, Owsley says, "The only thing I haven't been associated with is walking on the moon, for Christ's sake." Owsley did not parachute in to the Human Be-In in January 1967, as was widely reported, but he did provide 300,000 hits of acid called "White Lightning" for the event. Five months later at Monterey Pop, Owsley passed out his "Monterey Purple" backstage to Jimi Hendrix, Pete Townshend and the Stones' Brian Jones, not to mention much of the festival's staff and crew. Owsley also sent a photographer back to England with a telephoto lens packed with tabs of purple acid on the condition that he share them with the Beatles. "The thing about Owsley," Townshend said, "is that when he gave you something, he would take it too. Just to show you. He must have had the most extraordinary liver."

During this period, the Dead wrote "Alice D. Millionaire," a play on words from a headline about Owsley in The San Francisco Chronicle that read, "LSD Millionaire Arrested." In concert, the band regularly dedicated "The Other One" to him from the stage. At the end of Hendrix's live version of the Beatles' "Day Tripper," recorded at the BBC studios in 1967, he can be heard calling out, "Oh, Owsley, can you hear me now?" In 1976, Steely Dan burnished Owsley's myth by recording "Kid Charlemagne": "While the music played/You worked by candlelight/ Those San Francisco nights/You were the best in town. . . ."

Though Owsley seemed to be living the life of a counterculture superstar, Cargill remembers their time together back then as not so much an adventure as "constantly looking over your shoulder." The feeling was more than just paranoia. A year earlier in Los Angeles, narcotics agents had begun picking through their garbage. Owsley, who would only ever deal with one person at a time to distribute his product, had already gone through three or four intermediaries, dropping them as soon as he felt they were getting hot.

Although people speculated for years about how Owsley managed to conceal his stash, no one ever figured it out. He says his method was simple. He kept the LSD in an inexpensive footlocker that traveled constantly on Greyhound buses between Oakland, San Jose and San Francisco. "I could leave it for up to thirty days in the bus station and I would go to it wherever it was, take out whatever I needed, take it back in, and send it to myself in the next city. It was always in a safe place, and nobody had a clue, because I never told anyone I did that."

Despite his precautions, thirteen agents broke into a house in the East Bay that Owsley had rented for the express purpose of making tabs. On December 20th, 1967, the agents seized nearly 100 grams of crystalline LSD as well as a quantity of STP, a very powerful long-acting hallucinogen that caused many bad trips in the Haight. Owsley had gotten the recipe for STP from a former Dow chemist named Alexander Shulgin (who would later reintroduce Ecstasy to the rave generation). "He had this stuff, and we thought it might be good," Owsley says. "It turned out that it wasn't."

The senior arresting officer, aware of Owsley's status, noted that the bust would probably cause "panic in the streets" because "to a lot of hippies, their idol has fallen." He added that Owsley was "actually a psychedelic missionary" who "gives the impression that he feels the average person can never actually know himself without turning on with LSD."

As Owsley's case dragged through the courts for the next two years, he stopped making acid and worked as the sound man at the Carousel Ballroom for three months before it was bought by Bill Graham and renamed the Fillmore West. In July 1968, Owsley rejoined the Dead. By then, the band was being managed by Lenny Hart, the father of drummer Mickey Hart and a minister who believed God had called upon him to save the Dead from their never-ending financial woes. Lenny Hart and Owsley, who had "never trusted preachers anyway," got on like oil and water. In his classic account of the Grateful Dead on the road in May 1969, Michael Lydon noted the ongoing tension between Hart and Owsley by writing that they were "like two selves of the Dead at war, with the Dead themselves sitting as judges. . . . The Bear, says Jerry [Garcia], is 'Satan in our midst,' friend, chemist, psychedelic legend, and electronic genius; not a leader, but a moon with a gravitational pull. He is a prince of inefficiency, the essence at its most perverse of what the Dead refuse to give up."

Because he wanted to keep a "sonic journal" of his work, Owsley began plugging a suitcase-size Ampex 602 tape recorder into the sound board each night as the Dead played in 1966. By doing so, he compiled a historic collection of live performances. He also came up with the concept for what eventually became the band's logo. Because the Dead then began playing "a lot of festival-style shows where the equipment would all wind up at the back of the stage in a muddle," Owsley says, he decided to mark their gear so the roadies could easily locate it.

While driving to work one day in his MG, Owsley saw an orange and blue logo with a white bar across it on a building. He thought it would look cool if the logo was red and blue with a white lightning bolt through it, so he had someone spray-paint a basic version of it on the Dead's equipment. He then talked to his friend Bob Thomas about putting the lightning bolt through the words "Grateful Dead" in lettering, which from a distance would look like a skull. Together, they devised the "Steal Your Face" logo (a.k.a. "the stealie"). Thomas, who died in 1993, sold it to the band as a letterhead for $250, meaning that neither he nor Owsley ever saw a dime from all those Deadhead stickers on the rear bumpers of Volkswagen buses.

On January 30th, 1970, after a Dead show in New Orleans, police walked into the band's Bourbon Street hotel with search warrants and busted the Dead, along with Owsley. The headline in the New Orleans Times-Picayune the next day read "Rock Musicians, 'King of Acid,' Arrested." Although all charges were eventually dropped, "a fucking judge who wanted to make sure I did time" revoked Owsley's bail on the 1967 LSD bust after he was arrested again in Oakland. Owsley was sent to Terminal Island Federal Prison, a medium-security lockup in San Pedro where Charles Manson had also done time.

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In prison, Owsley got himself assigned to the kitchen. "I worked my way up to the top job," he recalls, "which was as a line backer for the steam tables, and I traded my two cartons of cigarettes a week for a steak a day from the butcher, and I got all the meat and eggs I needed, and I cooked my own food and had a great time." Transferred to Lompoc, where his job was to wax the dining-room floor, Owsley soon moved on to the maintenance shop, where he used the tools to begin doing exquisitely detailed carvings in wood and stone.

By the time Owsley returned to the Dead in August 1972, Dennis McNally says, "It was a different world. Bear wanted to be the sound man, and he was not the sound man, and he just never got it, because he had a single vision. That was his strength and his flaw. And the band had a bunch of macho cowboys as a crew who were snorting blow and drinking a whole lot of beer, and Bear was offended by their language and by their beer."

After being thrown across the room by one of the roadies during an argument, Owsley asked the band to give him the power to hire and fire the crew so they would know they were working for him. When the Dead declined to do so, Owsley found himself in what McNally calls "limbo." Shifting his focus to what he knew best, the science of sound, Owsley began working on a revolutionary new system that would deliver crystal-clear audio in the big hockey arenas and indoor stadiums the Dead were now selling out. "Phil Lesh and I would talk about this," Owsley says. "We would liken it to alchemy. 'As above, so below.' We called it the microcosm and the macrocosm. If what happens onstage is perfect, you put it out there to the audience."

After two years of planning and problem-solving, the "wall of sound" made its debut on March 23rd, 1974, at the Cow Palace in San Francisco. Forty-feet high, it was composed of 604 speakers using 26,400 watts of power supplied by 55 McIntosh 2300s. With nine independent channels, the system was so powerful that the amps only needed to be turned up to two. Because the Dead controlled everything from onstage, no one had to mix from the house. Lesh likened the experience of playing through the system to "piloting a flying saucer. Or riding your own sound wave." He also noted that the music made during the forty-odd shows when the system was used is still "regarded by Deadheads as the pinnacle of live performance."

"When I build a sound system," Owsley says, "I do it in a single cluster, because everything in the hall must come from one spot in the room. The sound turns into something you've never heard before. It's absolutely clear. It is loud without being loud. It is articulate. Every single note is separately placed in space as well as in time. Once the system's set, you can walk away from the board. Musicians can adjust it. It all comes from what the musicians do, and that was my goal from the beginning." The problem was that the system was so huge and required so much setup time that the Dead had to use two separate stages and two crews so the next show could be put up while the last was still being taken down. At a time when the Dead were trying to keep ticket prices down, the wall cost about $350,000. "It was brilliant and it worked," McNally says. "But they had to double the size of the crew and, in the process, the crew took over the band." Because the Dead were unwilling to fire any members of their large and sometimes dysfunctional family, the band decided in 1974 to instead take a break from touring, not going on the road again until the summer of 1976.

By then, most of the money Owsley had amassed during his days as the world's reigning acid chemist was gone. Living in Marin County, he supported himself doing sound for Jefferson Starship and Phil Lesh and selling his jewelry backstage, in arena parking lots and in hotel bars after shows whenever the Grateful Dead toured. He also grew weed in a garden outside his house. "It was the most dangerous, underpaid job I ever had in my life," he says."I was never a real grower. I did it because I was into breeding, and I had some strains that were absolutely unbelievable. All in all, I was making about a dollar fifty an hour." His agricultural career came to an abrupt end when some local junkies intent on ripping off his crop put a pistol under his chin and pointed a .22-caliber rifle at his chest. Two nights later, the junkies returned only to discover that Owsley had "fortified the place, hired some people and armed ourselves to the teeth." A running gun battle ensued, with one of the junkies taking a bullet through his arm. Incredibly, no one called the cops. "I later learned who every one of them was," Owsley says, "but I did not feel I could do anything about it. A year after that, I moved to Australia."

In 1984, Owsley appeared at Phil Lesh's house with a map of the world showing the mean temperatures at the height of the last ice age. Long before global warming became an international hot-button issue, he delivered what writer David Gans described as "a ninety-minute lecture on a thermal cataclysm that he said would begin with a six-week rainstorm and leave the entire Northern Hemisphere uninhabitable." Passing around Australian visa applications, Owsley then urged all those present to join him in the Southern Hemisphere.

Much like his theory that human beings are meant to eat only meat, Owsley's concept of climate change is at odds with most current scientific thought on global warming. In highly abridged form, what Owsley believes is that the phenomenon is real but that it comes from "the steadily increasing movement of large amounts of heat from the tropics across the temperate zones to the poles. 'Global warming: the panic,' is based exclusively on temperate-zone land measurements and ignores the fact that the planet is seventy percent ocean. The Arctic and Antarctic are soaking up the moving heat and the ice caps are melting, but the cause of the heat's movement is a buildup of energy as the prelude to a massive, planetary-scale cyclonic storm, which will build the new ice age glaciers."

Because this is a natural cycle, Owsley believes that carbon and methane emissions from human activity have little effect on the process and do not cause the greenhouse effect. "Our planet's heat balance and temperature are buffered and controlled by water and water vapor, which also washes CO2 out of the air and not minuscule fractions of a couple of gases, one of which is very soluble and the other unstable. Not a single atmospheric scientist subscribes to the concept of greenhouse gases or global warming — they all know the truth."

Owsley contends there is nothing people can do to prevent the coming of an ice age storm that he describes as "a kind of a gigantic hurricane, a cyclone thousands of miles in diameter, turning with winds of ultrasonic speeds that is one-half the planet in size." This is the Biblical 'flood of Noah,' and the entire portion of the planet underneath the storm will be blown flat and buried under water. "Based on past evidence, the sea will rise 300 meters, and life in some places will be entirely destroyed. I don't see how anyone in the Northern Hemisphere could survive the storm. But there are areas on the planet that are safe, and I hope I'm in one of them."

It is for this reason that Owsley and his wife, Sheilah, whom he first met at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley in 1985 while she was working in the ticket office for the Dead, now live in Australia forty-five minutes from anywhere on 120 acres of land he claimed by squatting on it like a pioneer. Together, they dwell in a complex of sheds, caravans, large canvas tents, modified shipping containers and corrugated-iron structures designed and built by Owsley. John Perry Barlow, who has been there, describes the enclave as "something out of Lord Jim, but the main living area is rather Victorian, handsomely carpeted, lots of books around, nice furniture and no walls." Owsley generates all his own power through a solar and wind system he built himself and collects rainwater he stores in two large tanks. There are three septic systems on the property, a hot tub, three kitchens and a large gym where he works out regularly. Once a year by invitation only, he throws a party attended by friends, family and musicians from all over Australia who play all night long. Needless to say, the party is electric.

After experiencing chest pains seven years ago, Owsley underwent surgery to correct a ninety percent blockage in an artery in his heart that dated back to his teenage years. Although he never smoked tobacco as an adult, Owsley learned in 2004 that he was suffering from stage-four throat cancer. Had it not been for Sheilah, he says, "I don't think I would have survived. We are truly soulmates after twenty-two years together, and our love is as strong today as it was in the beginning. How many people can say that?" Owsley also credits his all-meat diet for keeping him alive. "This is one of the most aggressive cancers you can get," he adds. "Normally, within six months or a year, it has metastasized throughout your body. I had it for at least three years, but it never left the left side of my neck. The reason is that I'm a total carnivore. I don't eat carbs. Cancers grow on glucose. They're extremely glucose-avid. Especially this one. In other words, this cancer was living in a desert."

Unlike his own father, Owsley has made every effort to be an active parent to his son Starfinder and daughter Redbird (whose mother is Cargill), born three weeks apart to two different mothers who remain good friends and raised their children as brother and sister. Owsley lives by selling his art through his Web site (thebear.org) and royalties from Dead recordings. Some of his other recorded works include Bear's Choice; Big Brother and the Holding Company Live at the Carousel Ballroom, June 23, 1968; The Allman Brothers Band Fillmore East, February 1970; and the acoustic Jerry Garcia bluegrass-band albums Old & in the Way, That High Lonesome Sound and Breakdown.

Night after night during the summer months, Owsley can be found stalking Bufo marinus, the species of poisonous toads (whose venom, Owsley insists, won't get you high) first introduced into Australia in 1935 in the mistaken belief that they would help control the cane beetle. Breeding so rapidly that they soon became a national nightmare, the giant toads (some of which weigh as much as two pounds and have come to be considered an environmental menace in both Hawaii and Australia) are now poisoning the baby fish in the acre-and-a-half lake Owsley created on his property. Shining an LED light on them, he sprays each one with Detsol, a liquid disinfectant much like Lysol that is highly toxic to them, throws each one into a bucket, and then dumps their corpses into the woods the next day. On a good night, Owsley will catch as many as 225 toads. During the past month, he has dispensed with 1,400 of them.

To see Owsley in action now is to understand that forty years after the Summer of Love, the man has not really changed very much at all. Wherever he goes, he carries an astonishing aluminum briefcase bedecked with wrinkled rock & roll stickers and ancient Grateful Dead backstage passes stuffed to the brim with precious scraps of platinum and gold from which he has fashioned his jewelry, a jeweler's loup so his pieces can be viewed at close range on black felt jeweler's boards, a small metric scale, a portable memory drive, numerous rolls of tape and a plethora of tiny plastic film containers. In every way, the briefcase reflects his mind.

As he cooks up the protein-rich soupy mixture that sustains him (composed, in part, of a thick gelatinous paste he makes by boiling down countless chicken legs), Owsley scrolls through digital photographs of his work on his laptop, burns a CD of his live mix of Big Brother and the Holding Company, and fills a tiny baggie with the Australian peppercorns he considers the finest in the world. Maddeningly methodical and impossible to control, he has come back to America to take care of business matters while visiting family members and old friends he has not seen in years. Believing "there is no past and no future" because "everything exists only in present time," it never occurs to him to drive five minutes out of his way to the Monterey Fairgrounds where, forty years ago, his high-powered rocket fuel helped launch the Summer of Love. For him, this is just another day on the road.

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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Wed Jul 17, 2013 6:20 pm

Speaking after his first LSD experience, courtesy of psychiatrist Oscar Janiger, the Sandoz Corporation, and whatever other sponsors:

I was opened up to the beauty in people who had never seemed beautiful before. The next morning at the Pancake House, I walked up and bowed to four nuns. I had never spoken to nuns before - I couldn't penetrate their cloak of reverence. I walked up to them, and loved them, and they were sure I owned the place, and gave me their orders for breakfast. When the waiter came and I sat down at my table, it shook them. But I spoke to them again and told them I saw them as Sisters of Beauty. They tittered and giggled and blushed, well-pleased.

- Beat comedian Lord Buckley


http://www.maps.org/media/whalen7.3.98.html

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Re: Tantra-Induced Delusional Syndrome ("TIDS")

Postby American Dream » Wed Jul 17, 2013 7:22 pm

And here is Lord Buckley speaking in his own voice, so it all makes more sense:


His Majesty The Policeman

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