Manson Lecture 8: Cooking Out with Friends … (December 22nd, 1997)

MP3: https://dfgtc.org/mp3/20210211_Manson_Lectures_0008_Having_A_Cookout.mp3

Squeaky Has a Hangover

We’d been at Spahn Ranch for about 6 months … maybe a year …

Squeaky had been hanging out, down by the cambio, where thrunkets had been burning bodies to scare away the rat-toads. “I can’t find no help down there”, she screamed to anyone that walked by. They kicked her out to find her own paste, and she ended up wasted on white-lightning and then came my way for renewal …

“Why don’t you take your love meat to me no more Charlie?”, squeaky moaned, wearing her torn up sun dress and covered in 8 days of filth.

“You get cleaned up …”

“Fuck YOU Charlie …”

“You get cleaned up Squeaky, and I’ll take my pipe and blow you a tune.”

She stuck her tongue out at me, threw a rock at my head, and ran off behind the faux-deo, where there were fake cows eating fake grass …

Several days later, after Tex and I had got done burying those hookers … we went to check up on Squeaky …

“Hun …”

“Yeah …”

“Hun, you coming back to supper with the family?”

“Nah, I’m drinking piss-whiskey Chuck …”

After several attempts, I told Squeaky I was going to have a BBQ, a cookout, in honor of her and her womanhood and her life and her flesh and her soul-vibrations and her lovely personality. We’d drink and eat in honor of Squeaky …

Squeaky smiled and said “what ya gonna cook?”

What to Cook?

Tex and I had been out for days … chasing tail … hunting h’ringus meat and darlings down by the Broken Arrow Ranch in Redding. We met up with some old friends, buddies of ours from prison days, and we had a great fete. We set up this huge bonfire, and we got angry and drunk and crazy and sang songs of hunting meat in the night, and chasing it down.

When Squeaky had asked about the menu, my thoughts were unclear …

“You have more h’ringus left, don’t ya?”

“Nah Tex, we gave half of it to the Hell’s Angels, and the other chunk to the scrumbics who were worshiping BAAL down by the water.”

But Tex did point out that the scrumbics had a loyal proselyte named V’runda, and he worked in power-magic and Texas style cookouts. You can’t always tell with the scrumbics, they conceived of a 8 eyed demigod named Aargoz, and his penis was 800 feet long, and he inseminated the whole universe …

So I called up the scrumbic master, Shaman Douglas, and he said V’runda was catering a Satanic wedding but he would be available by 8 PM, and he would bring the meat …

So that was great … we had the universe working with us. You have to open your spirit windows to allow the great cosmic energy to penetrate your mind-gina … Women have a va-gina … but all beings have a mind-gina … And we needed to pop that cherry.

V’runda Has a Seizure

V’runda showed up at 9 PM, and Squeaky had already been drinking the Sterno by then … she’d made Sterno-jelly-shots and mixed in old cocoa and lamb’s blood and d’risket pudding and other things she found growing by the abandoned caves …

“You ready?”, V’runda asked.

Most of our cadre was passed out around the fire pit. Round one of coco-shrooms was complete. Coco-shrooms were a mixture of psychedelic mushrooms and cocaine – you then add raw chocolate and mix with warm milk and vodka. We usually did 5 to 20 shots of coco-shrooms a night.

“YOU GUYS ALL DRUNK!”, cried V’runda.

At that point I woke from a dream. In my dream, I had been flying in the Land of Takkas, being chased by gornet-birds and whisper-hawks. I was dressed in a golden cape and a silver codpiece and fists of glowing red hot titanium. I was seeking my queen, my love goop, my holy guacamole. I was chasing after that fever that kills the old and banishes the young. I was caught in the eternal lie.

“I’ve brought something special …”, V’runda smiled and poked me with stick.

“What you got skunkis-snake?”

“I brought yeeler-dogs …”

At that moment our whole party awoke. They had yeeler-dogs a while back, while hanging with the Beach Boys and writing musics. Yeeler-dogs were made of old aged cheese and wild boar from Germany and Danish ham scraps and other stuff … scary stuff … we’re not supposed to talk about. Yeeler-dogs … it was a Squeaky party.

You run OUT of hotdogs, then what?

The party had been going for about 5 hours … it was 1 or 2 AM, and Squeaky was leading the group in weird songs about sand vibrations and the genital crabs she got, and never got rid of, in San Diego. V’runda looked at me, shook his head …

“We’re out of dogs …”

“No more dogs?”

“No more dogs …”

So I had to give the after dinner speech.

“Children, listen up …”, I said. “The challenges of our age exist in the protein sauce reunion of the woman-beast with the man-child. We can’t just bounce around, without a sense of cookie charm. We can’t just eat the weeds and grind the sand to make tamales … our destiny is to find MAGIC in the puddles. We can spend all night eating yeeler-meat … or … OR WE CAN DANCE AND FROLIC AND FIGHT AND HUNT AND BLEED AND BREED …”

The whole speech lasted about an hour … by then, the clan was restless.

ADF: After Dinner Fun

Squeaky was twitching, in a fetal position … her hands covered in blood. And we had to clean her up … the whole thing was blowing open towards starlight mystery.

We’d decided to run down to Clif’s place, not far from Laurel Canyon …

Clif had whale-paste – this stuff the Japanese whalers sucked out of the adrenal glands of sperm whales they killed. This was the strongest and purest adrenocrhome you could possibly get your hands on …

C9H9NO3

C9: 9 angels there for Charlie …

H9: 9 hounds chasing Charlie …

NO3: 3 times I am told NO by QUEEN URONA …

Clif wasn’t awake, he was passed out watching Dragnet. Squeaky yelled at his house for 30 minutes, then she picked up a rock and busted out the plate glass window in front … this startled Clif …

“What the FUCK is going on out there?”

Squeaky, enraged and disassociated, picked up one of the jagged decorative rocks from Clif’s front yard and beat him to death with it … she was covered in blood. She ran into the house, stole all the whale-paste from Clif’s fridge, and we went back to Spahn Ranch.

Closing it OUT and Cleaning it UP

Cooking-out for friends, like Squeaky, is never easy …

We took the whale-paste back, we drank and cheered the new morning …

We ate sunrise tacos and made love and covered our bodies in whale-paste and smoked pot and did some cocaine and took a nap …

And after all this?

There was love.

(love man)