Manson Lecture 14: Helter Skelter … (Feb 2nd, 1998)

MP3: https://dfgtc.org/mp3/20210320_Manson_Lectures_0014_Helter_Skelter.mp3

Mother-burden, father-knife …

CUM SOUP …

That’s where we’re from …

We come from poisons and gases and heat and water and time … we come from the soup of ages, cooking in the CHASM of nature … the great vagina. All that soup … proteins and acids and single celled creatures … and today it is still here … AND TODAY: YOU STILL EMERGE FROM CUM SOUP!

RACIALISM? … fuck … soup gets mixed up man.

THEY SELL US THIS DIVISION, SUB-DIVISION … real estate racism scheme. Some dude wants to open a STARBUCKS … so he says “look fuck, that guy who owns that old CAFE is racist …” … and the racialists move in, burn out the old dude (probably a black dude) and open a STARBUCKS … to fight racism.

Racialist armies are forming up … nobody knows how far this will go … dark forces want us AT EACH OTHER’s THROATS … and we are the bandit heroes of lore. And if your mother-whore screams at you? – tell her to BACK OFF and take her OILS!

A GREAT FIRE will be unleashed. A fire to clean the EARTH of barren witch-maidens and radioactive ghost-soldiers and all the KLEBUSHACK-FUNKEN-FOLK of REGION-6. All serve their MOTHER-WHORE-EARTH-GODDESS …

Your MOTHER-WHORE is your MOTHER-BURDEN: the knife that severs the umbilical cord is named FATHER … and he’s angry and covered in mud.

Old men with fungus growing on their feet, toenails covered in mucous and thriggen-munk. It itches so much that you grab some hydrochloric acid and toss it on your feet just to get the damn things clean. And after? – the smell of it … the resin … the bones exposed and the rats licking on your wounds? This is when you detect the DRAINAGE and the pill madness of city dwelling. The mother-burden is in the toe jam … and the knife is the thrill pistol.

Racism?

Racism is a NEW JOY JUICE for our lizard self. We can feed on atrophy and separation from the mother-burden to find our father-knife-giver. In the forge of our red temple the dark leering jingus-freaks eat mock liver and hunt cactus-shrimp.

BURY THE HOOKERS!

BURY THE HOOKERS!

Bury the hookers of your mind DEEP in the DIRT!

Button aimed, and weak knee’d bracing with old monkey priests and plastic whale zebras. And YOUR WOMAN is covered in scroton and penguin blood. Your love-blister filled and engorged and building, and you have to unload but the store is closed man … and your toaster is broken. The toast? – something you find in Tuscon covered in old dead squirrels.

How we should arm ourselves …

I want to build 10 gauge glunket guns using high grade steel pipe … I will hand them out to my posse and we will search for the star travelers. I will mill brass knuckles from old pennies and tell the witch by the oak what she can do. We will cut out links of chain, and hand this chain to the young ones … so they can practice chasing commies down the street.

Cool your jets sinister chaplain. Lay siege to your own fox hound glory. Steam clean your Cleveland steamer and take heed of old mud hounds cutting at your flesh, cutting at your body, with razor blades and bored looks of dismay.

Take your apprehension and derision and mail that to the POPE: for our mission is to bend the will of craven and mangled masses. We are going to serve swamp cake and greggel-bread and warm turtle and slug soup … cook the slugs well …

COOK THOSE DAMN SLUGS WELL … the parasite will enter your brain and eat away all of your shame and regret and leave you a husk.

COOK the SLUG until it is black and crispy …

I kept telling the family that our daily bread was mashed woodpecker and squirrel and old sticks of sweaty dynamite. I keep hearing the refrain: “Can’t we have the TV DINNER?”

I scream at these whore captains, and all I get is acrid grief.

RACIAL SEPARATION and ONENESS …

I took a trip to St. Martins last Autumn. I saw DOC FREEGIX and I laid down on his couch and he took his metal spike and tore out my morose obsessions …

FREEGIX pulled out winch-weasels and turnip-lathes and chunks of plutonium and old bricks and dried albino monkey shit … all of it … coming from my subconscious mind.

FREEGIX grabbed my MOTHER-BURDEN and tossed it on the table. HE SAID:

“LOOK AT YOUR SHAME!” … and I did …

I looked at the shame of mankind and his hate and his stupidity. I looked at “colors” … red, black, white, yellow, purple … green … colors were everywhere, and judgment was everywhere because DEATH IS EVERYWHERE …

“YOUR THANATOS is your EROS and your DEATH-UNCLE …”, further explained Dr. FREEGIX.

… and then that FUCK just looked at me, his wired up peepers, his sweaty arm pits, his stink … old man mixed with homeless man mixed with dog shit halitosis dying inside stink? … and he looked at me … and stared into me … and told me the STORY … gave me the ANSWER.

Francisco BIZARRO (of SPAIN) …

This is the STORY of our MIND and the HELTER SKELTER SOLUTION that Dr. FREEGIX related:

In 1977, Francisco BIZARRO of Spain … set out on a great journey to find the SECRET of WHY people can be so fucking terrible. He was given a commission by the HIGH QUEEN, Elton John, and enough funds to buy a FORD Pinto, and beat about North America for a year or two … in style … plenty of cocaine.

Francisco went to NYC in search of “mankind’s bullshit hate”, and he found anger, and rage, and sadness, and moping, and angst, and tears, and rudeness … but he found no single indication that the “racism” lived in NYC.

Francisco drove to LA … he hung out with the drifters and CIA spun jerks of Laurel Canyon. He dropped ACID and planned bank heists and designed a tunnel into space …

He lived on the beach and drank Mai-Tai’s and consumed the glumpto-flesh that those surfer cowboys left vomited by the corner of the outdoor shower … all hairy and dead … like cats wandering the CONGO looking for mind-prunes.

FRANCISCO endured California’s wannabe super heroes and cult kooks and crazy egomaniacs … and still … zilch brothers … nothing.

SO FRANCISCO CONSULTED THE HIGH PRIEST OF RACIAL BULLSHIT: JESSE “FUCKING” JACKSON …

He cornered Jesse one night …

Jesse had been trolling college sophomores, looking for young snatch …

Jesse wanted to feel young again, to have his man juices spread out like rivers into valleys of juice and volcanic glass …

Francisco was hanging at “Two Nickles”, a hangout for Jesse, and found him by himself in a booth in the back …

“JESSE, I am FRANCISCO …”

“FRANCISCO? – I am drunk …”, Jesse shouted back.

“JESSE, WHY ARE PEOPLE SO FUCKING RACIST? WHAT IS THE ROOT OF THIS RACISM?”

“Denmark …”

Jesse muttered “Denmark”, he began shaking … his eyes darted back and forth.

DENMARK … some wretchedly terrible and nasty grimy fucking mold covered fuck’ola … IN MOTHER FUCKING DENMARK!

SHE IS THE MOTHER-WHORE!

THE MOTHER-BURDEN!

THE FATHER-KNIFE!

Denmark …

Francisco had a million dollars left … just enough to buy a ticket to Copenhagen, and enough cocaine …

Francisco arrived in Copenhagen, and immediately he went to the:

Nationalt Dansk Hatemuseum og FRANSKE BULLDOGER

THE DANISH NATIONAL MUSEUM OF HATE … and FRENCH BULLDOGS!

They saw old Dr. Hootles. Hootles was born in Vriig-Culten, near Spitz-Fookin.

His parents raised cane rat for tacos they sold to the rich overlords. Because of the JANTE LAW, they were forbidden to have hopes or dreams or expectations or goals … but they were allowed to raise cane rat for taco meat.

He studied hate in elementary school, as all Danish kids were expected. He was considered very proficient at hate-studies and hate-analytics and “advanced techniques for identifying people and places to hate” … he was recommended for advanced training at the Copenhagen University for the Study of Hate and French Bulldogs and Herpes … this was big. Huge.

BUT THIS IS ALL HISTORICAL BULLSHIT … as my old friend Ivan would say …

Francisco was anxious and tired and going through early cocaine withdrawals …

Francisco wanted one simple answer, to one basic question: why are people assholes to each other based on racial nonsense?

Hootles thought on the question, looking into the night and drinking some whiskey and smoking a cigarette – as all Danish people are wont to do …

“The crux of this thing … is the quantum enfoldment of de-materialized herring sperm …”

“Herring sperm?”

“No … there’s more ….”

Hootles went on to explain that 1,000 years ago, a bunch of weird herring had some kind of weird herring fish orgy in the Baltic Sea. A bunch of their fucked up sperm goop washed up on the shores of Denmark – at the time, only a colony of herpes ridden hookers …

This pile of goop? – it changed, over time, into some kind of green and greasy and mossy fucked up cocoon …

Out of that fucking cocoon? – the first french bulldog arose …

His name was HELTER-SKELTER and he was nasty and smelly and angry and a terrible spittle or foam drool would dangle from his disease infused mouth …

HELTER-SKELTER had sex with a Danish hooker (with herpes) named GREEGA-HOOBIS …

They are the SECRET ANCIENT FIRST King and Queen of Denmark … they are buried near the Norgis water treatment facility … it is believed.

They had a kid named LINDO …

LINDO married the hooker SHIN-TAZ …

AND THIS BULLSHIT OF FUCKING AND NAMING AND BEGETTING WENT ON FOR CENTURIES …

And this is where/how/when the modern Danish people came from … the truth.

And this is also why people are so fucking racist and angry … because the DANES created, because they were generational hookers with herpes, a SUPER-HERPES that makes EVERYBODY HYPER OBSESSED with skin color and body shape … but not always body odor. Also, causes people to deride others for their clothing or the shape and location of their home …

GET IT?

(alright)

And Francisco had just enough money left to buy a kilo of premium cocaine and a week at a decent Copenhagen hotel … and hookers.

And Francisco, and Hootles, and the hookers, walked with each other, to Tivoli …

(and they dreamed)