Elle Redbud Nosh-Nut, Page 108 + 109.

"I mean, what's the difference between me an' a psychiatrist?"

"Tell Me."

"A psychiatrist don' suck yer cock, sugar."

"Oh, they do, only they don't swallow. They prefer to spit it back at you. Hungry?"

Heaviest Tea Mayor, Page 293 + 294.

I hate The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I never, ever liked it.

I don't like the songs -- face facts, they are all essentially the same tune, over and over again. I don't like the characters, except for Barry Bostwick as Brad, who, contrary to what the audience screams, is the only cast member who is NOT an asshole. I can't stand the story, what little there is of it, as it decays into the sort of high-school musical dreamland one can find oneself in if one has sucked down too much amyl nitrate.

And I can't stand the audience.

On Halloween, and on regular weekend midnight shows throughout the year, the local Rocky Horror fan club gets together at the Riverview Theater to watch the same movie and make the same jokes about it, week after week. Deviation is not tolerated, unless it's initiated by one of the club's cool inner circle. The same jokes, sketches, interjections, always. I haven't seen so much precision rote behavior since Triumph Of The Will.

Here is an example of a film that was bad to begin with, and now two decades later people band together to celebrate its badness, but they do it badly.

For reasons only God could explain, people have been doing this, repeatedly, for over twenty-five years.

What began as an interesting midnight movie exercise in excessive camp has become a haven for witless followers, a sort of church for dumbshits.

. . .

SALIV, Page 102.

When something begins to devour the world, a serious matter is taking place.

Go Ahead, I'm Already Watching.

The string of lights moves with the wind over the lake, and I see him in a danger-swim.

I can pull it down anytime.

You're used to it, I think?

SALIV, Page 96.

He wasn't theory-mongering for the sake of it; he was trying to figure out what the fuck had happened to him.

. . .

Heaviest Tea Mayor, Page 277.

So, the real joy is to watch the whole thing go to smash.

The Sweetest Cat, In The World.

"His name is Pepsi."

"He only has zero ears and one eye."

"And his lower lip is infected."

SALIV, Page 68.

Once, when I lectured at the University Of California at Fullerton, a student asked me for a short, simple definition of reality. I thought it over and answered, "Reality is that which when you stop believing in it, it doesn't go away."