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Wally World news .............The Walter Simon Blog. Walter Simon
 Media Freak
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Chapter1 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- WALLY WORLD NEWS
Blue Moon Edition, 2010
INTRODUCTION: Normal Bean was serious, you could see the flash in his jiggy eyeballs. “Get on the stage,” he said. “Yup that’s what Kesey was telling me right before he died and that’s what I’m going to do!” Flash forward!
Bean’s prophetic cry, honoring his mentor, could well be considered part
of an evolution from the trend-setting command of Ken Kesey to “Get on
the Bus” --like the next step. Read on Tricksters!
Herein lies the tale of a strange melodic journey from dreams to screams, to threats, back to dreams, hopefully arriving in April of 2010 at a reasonable conclusion filled with hope: the goal being a series of
regional tours, a festival-performance of sympathetic magic, a cultural ring-a-ding, with national overtones. What? Is Wally World News skewed with Hippie propaganda? Read and learn!
Welcome to WWN: Your humble reporter needs to tell you up-front that he's a bit of a trickster, himself, but never doubt the sincerity of this advise, as echoed from the mouth of Bean: “It‘s time to get on the stage.” Oh yeah, I say on to you: “Collect the tribes.” Break out and touch America, generate some love for us fellow humanoids, of the male
and female persuasion, proving once again, reflecting on Kesey’s life, spoken from deep experience, that the most effective form of communication, in the media age of rattle-tattle, is razzle-dazzle.
Early critics may suggest of this report: “Il raisonne comme une huitre.”* Outrageous, nonsense & wrong! WWN is about the continued raising of a cultural movement, and a reporter’s faith in the American people willing to see through civic obfuscation, and to leap over the pot holes of everyday life. You and me: us; us'in if you prefer, like cousins. It’s a Family Affair.
Hippies unite! Your nation needs you, once again. Especially after 8-years of the Bush Administration where our civil rights were arrogantly trampled by wild elephants. It's a song to write. Right now the USA seeks more than another tea party!!! It asking for the whole enchilada with extra salsa. Look around. We're a country in a civil war over values. It's time to stand up and sing along with Normal Bean. Clear your pipes. Sound-off: “Let Your Freak Flag Fly”.
Believing great movements explode from the inside out, Wally World New is exclusively devoted to promoting a regional dress rehearsal and finally a national road tour celebrating the arts through Deadhead jams and contemporary writings, embracing fond memories of a well-documented Kesey tradition, with full intention of carrying on a cultural institution, if not a second cultural revolution. If you're a Prankster, let's make it up as we go.
The word is out to gather the tribes. We invite the Hippie Nation to join hands for a grand tour. Brothers and sisters: “Get on the Stage”. We can help make this happen with your support.
WWN hopes to revitalize significant movements of human spirit, adding to the package with new century ideals. This writing begins with an apology.
(FOOTNOTE* “Il raisonne comme une huitre. = He thinks like an oyster.)
----------WWN#1 FOLLOWS-------
WWN #1 - Met My First Hippie in Eugene.
On nights when nothing seems to make sense, I walk a few feet to the north side of the barn with my pipe and cheap-ass lighter to watch moon beams bounce off the summit of Mt. Pisgah, a local treasure, part of a
well-tended, interactive arboretum.
As an aside: Mt. Pisgah is crossed by heavy-duty power lines moving in
the direction of the Promised Land, presumably Portland, Oregon, a vital city juxtaposing the great Columbia River, a source of mythological magic as any coastal Native American knows.
Mt. Pisgah by day is an uphill hike for dogs and their energetic owners; and by night a moist shadow, coyotes sometimes howl to the passing clouds, cows intermittently whisper moos in the dark, once in a while a mew from feral cats big and small, sometimes a huge eerie cry. This is a region of expected breeze, one that circles the Willamette Valley floor, before the barn.
“There's a monument up there to Ken Kesey's son,” I think. Jed, Ken's first born, was tragically killed in 1984, in a van headed for a wrestling match. Young Jed was an athlete, like his father, for the University of Oregon.
The panoramic view from the top of Mt. Pisgah reaches out to valley farms, many traditionally planted row-by-row with grapes, a view that flows with the motion of cows and horses, and sights-off to Eugene and Springfield.
High or low, up or down-to-earth the Kesey influence is strongly felt in Oregon, especially Eugene/Springfield. Kesey graduated from Springfield High School.
Since reading One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest drawn from Kesey's experience as a CIA medical guinea pig, while a Stanford grad student, who also worked at Menlo Park Veterans Hospital, a warehouse for the psychologically wounded, I’ve been haunted by the power of his writing.
That’s where I left the feeling, years ago, never expecting a developed Kesey culture in collective out-growth today, the same one that changed the sixties from black and white shades to psychedelic colors.
I‘m sold on Kesey's mock and challenge of conventional wisdom, the very substance of serious movements. Get on the Bus, indeed! Shake up a complacent culture, for sure.
As a pronounced Beat, in my time, Kerouac and Burroughs were easy reads as they dug their nails into the thin-skinned back of American culture, one bruised by McCarthyism, blighted by a growing indifference to social dissonance, and of expanding work populations , suburban dwellers churned by growing industries like super markets, media markets, gas guzzling cars, jet planes and health care, to suggest a few.
Kesey –the spirit of-- managed to blast open a new door, with introspective thoughts presumably jiggled by hallucinogenics. He seemed a social activist with a flair for performance, one with the ability to channel the energy of kindred spirits. Kesey proved himself a force, a catalyst for action, able to define an eccentric clan, better known as the Merry Pranksters. Hey... they're still alive and cooking.
As a postmodern writer, Kesey influenced Jerry Garcia, Paul McCartney
and Hunter S. Thompson, among others. I respect him because he had the
balls to stand up for strong personal beliefs, and you can include drugs in the mix, while at the same time sustaining –do I mean surviving?-- national attention. Kesey, in his time, was considered by more conventional minds a social pariah. This helps to explain the view of main stream law enforcement, in a culture where power filters from the top... down.
In humor, I struggle to separate the difference between J. Edger Hoover prancing around the halls of power in drag and some guitarist smoking a doober backstage. Both acts fill a particular dream. Same song, different motivation.
The Kesey movement that followed, seemingly invented as it developed, is still alive through three generations and respectfully qualifies as a myth. Joesph Campbell said it best: “Myths that satisfy are myths that survive.”
Regretfully I recently learned, that the Kesey story post mortum was ripe for commercial exploitation. That’s why I’m feeling depressed, alone in the dark, watching a headlight flicker on a distant road, by the barn door.
I underestimated a serious movement, hopefully capable of self-support. A tour across the country, the possibility of it, is not about drinking soda pop or lite brews. Let’s go back a few months.
I’m in Montreal last November, doing the blab with extended family, damaging my heart at the Snowden Delicatessen.
Inspired, somewhere between the pastrami and the chocolate cake, I impulsively telephoned a marketer, let's call him Mssr. Andre Belette, a person I worked with, writing flack, through the years; and explained what I understood, that a conversation was circulating in Eugene about a revitalization of a Ken Kesey theme to “Get on the Bus,” which sounded
more like “Get to the Stage”.
Suggested that sponsors would be a helpful, and series of conversations and correspondence followed, quickly started to move in circles, ending with no productive results, forcing me to call off the commercial dogs.
After months of back and forth correspondence along with colleagues including Bean, I realized that Kesey's dramatic manifestations would unavoidably be exploited by wanton commercialism, with views far distant from Kesey's original intention, let me suggest a guidepost-movement for frustrated post-way babies, ready to vote with mind, body and spirit.
Frustrated, I gladly learned from a idealistic publisher, a self-defined hippie and a curly-bold faced Deadhead musician that some movements in life can not be sold as commercial enterprise. In the case at hand, it's a conflict of interest, the prostitution of a good idea, controlled by self-serving money grabbing profiteers. Fending off the screams and shouts, I shut down all negotiation, fearing exploitation from an outer-directed source. The “stage” tour, to be viable, should find a way to support itself.
Reflecting: I can’t escape the feeling that no matter where you are on
the food chain --on the high-end eating tenderloin beef with Champaign, or as a recent dumpster-diver eating Spam and drinking whatever works-- the feeling that when it comes to social manipulation through media, morality must govern over expediency.
Let me explain my dilemma, how I underestimated a culture little understood, perhaps leaning too hard on what I now believe to be Tom Wolf's deceptive vision of Kesey and the Pranksters.
The Kesey name and purpose behind the name lives on, especially in Oregon, clearly among fans, friends and family. A land where Hippies are in, and the vibes are good. It's my strong conviction that if any tour is to develop, it must grow from the inside out, never governed by commercial motives.
A hard lesson to learn, having worked in profit industries most of my career. Call it a “great notion” but significant movements grow through bonds that support similar goals. Met my first real hippie in Eugene. Now I is (sic.) one.
If you've gone this far, understand that to make a national tour celebrating the past and the future, we need your help. Are you ready to “Get on the Stage”, willing to support and travel with us, as far as the road leads? If so get on your computer and share ideas with us. We grow together or not at all.
Be part of the foundation of Bean's dream, in memory of Ken Kesey. If it's in your heart to do this, we can make it happen. At risk of repetition, common values make for common bonds. “Get on the Stage” folks. Now is the time for a second Kesey Renaissance. COMING SOON: WWN #2 takes a strong look at contemporary life and how Hippies are –in fact-culture changing mainstream thinkers, wrapped in psychedelic garments. Deadhead I'm reaching out to you. Let's celebrate what's left of our universe. Ride above the fog of business-as-usual, and sing along with Normal Bean. http://normalbean.bandcamp.com/ LEGAL WARNINGS: Website,Pages,Content,info, email and any attachments: 1) are claimed (copyright, patent,
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