Images not displaying
I decided that all you guys who are spending summer at your computers might as well learn something.  SUMMER SCHOOL continues for a little longer.  Let's learn about some difficult subjects.
                             - Hardy
JULY 15,  2017  #20

No doubt by now you have heard of humans.  We already covered where they are headed in the future in our CRISPR gene splicing lesson.  But what we haven't covered is where the hell they came from.  I don't mean that evolving from monkey thing. That's an entirely different lesson.

You and I weren't the original idea.  Version 1 was scrapped, along with a number of later ones.  It took a while to get the formula right, but once the beast stood up and sang, "I am, I said," it was just a matter of seeing what we did with what we had.

You're going to like this lesson.  Not as frightening as some of the previous ones.
What Happened Before History? Human Origins

People who love people
The video is 10 minutes long.

"Every new album from BOBUCK
is even better than the previous one.
Extraordinary interpretation
of the best titles of popular culture.
In Bobuck we trust."

Click on the tab o acid to order
nineteen-sixty-seven CD
The Summer of Love

◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊ THE STONE ch.9
Hardy Fox

Charles caught the young medical student, Seven, searching the next door apartment.  Seven is trying to remove anything that might be used for blackmail. Seven has found an envelope of sexually charged photographs which Charles hides in his apartment.
“Truthfully, I could be the TAR walking among them looking as ordinary as any other man.”
Several times during the course of the day I had knocked at Dr. Hill’s door. I felt I could not rest until I had asked him what all these strange events could mean.

Each time I was told by his daughter, Mary, that he was not at home. What a strange girl, I thought. A beautiful girl, but with a beauty so odd that at first you couldn’t see it.

It was remarkable how attached to Dr. Hill I had grown in the last few days. After all, to be precise, I had only spoken to him once in my whole life. I gave up waiting in the hallway and returned to my apartment upstairs. I needed to find a better hiding place for those intimate photographs. I took them out of the chest; they would be better kept in the safe box.

A photograph fell from the envelope. Angelina’s face appeared to be experiencing extreme pleasure, or perhaps pain. She looked me straight in the eyes and sighed very softly. Memories returned. I knew that face, I knew that look.
A snow battle was raging outside my window.
One snow flake regiment after the other, tiny soldiers in shaggy, white coats, rushed across the windowpanes for minutes on end, always in the same direction, as if they were all fleeing from some particularly vicious enemy. Then all of a sudden they would tire of running away for some inexplicable reason and dashed back again until they were ambushed from above and below by new hostile armies and everything dissolved into a chaotic, swirling vortex.

I felt as though months had elapsed since my strange experience in the theater, through actually only a few days had passed. Had it not been for the fact that several times a day new rumors of the TAR would surface and remind me of that night, I think I might suspect I had imagined it all.

I became conscious of the immense, profound loneliness separating me from everyone else. I wish I had a single friend, apart from Dr. Hill, with whom I could talk about my experiences.

Looking out the window I could see Seven standing and talking, apparently quite amicably, to Wasser.

Someone was at my door. Angelina.

She seemed incapable of speech, but finally she explained that Wasser had been threatening to call her husband again.

“Why should your husband believe Wasser, anyway?” I added.

“He has evidence, Anton and I liked to take pictures of each other, you know, pictures. They were in a drawer in the apartment and they are missing.”

I told her that I had removed the photos from the room and they were safely locked away. She flung her arms around my neck, laughing and crying at the same time. She kissed me, then ran to the door, turned back and kissed me again. Then she was gone. A minute later everything was silent. Silent as the grave.

Then the half-open door creaked and Seven peeked around it. “Sorry, but I knocked; you didn’t seem to hear.” I just nodded.

I told Seven what had happened between Wasser and Angelina, and how we were smart to have removed the photos from the room.

“That vermin down there, Wasser, is beginning to take a liking to me. Charles, it’s a strange thing, that call of the blood,” he added quietly, almost as though speaking to himself. I had no idea what he meant, and assumed I had missed part of what he had said.

“He wanted to give me a coat,” Seven went on in his normal voice. “I thanked him but said no, of course. My skin is hot enough as it is. And then he forced some money on me. Naturally I accepted it.”

“Accepted it?” I stammered. “Don’t you realize that puts you in his debt?

Seven shrugged his shoulders. Then added, “You lack appreciation of how poor I am. Turning down money would be foolish."

Seven went back to the table and silently sat down. He stared at the table top for a bit. Mechanically, his fingers stroked a utility knife that lay on my table.


Seven’s Story

“I gradually came to understand what hatred is. We can only hate something as deeply as I do Wasser, if it is part of ourselves. And when I found out, bit by bit, what my mother was, it was clear to me where the root of it lay.

Wasser is my father.”

I spontaneously looked over Seven trying to spot any of the man in him, but found nothing. It was hard to imagine such a sensitive man could be a child of Wasser.

Seven went on, “Wasser controlled her with drugs. Then abandoned her to the street. He didn’t do it because he was tired of her. The day he dumped her was the day he realized just how passionately in love he was with her. The wild animal inside him gives a screech of horror the moment anyone buys something from his junk shop. No matter how much they pay for it, all that he feels is that he is being forced to give up part of his life.

During the affair with my mother, fear grew within him that loving someone was a weakness that would harness his will. The logical consequence for Wasser was to cripple my mother’s strength. It gratified the perverse pleasure he finds in tormenting himself.”


Seven's eyes teared, his vulnerability made me pull him to me. I wrapped my arms around him like I might a lost child. He squeezed me tightly. I realized that our breathing had gotten slower but still we held to each other, neither of us acknowledging that what had begun as a sympathetic embrace had gained a caring aspect that felt fresh and warm.

I pushed him back slightly, brushed that hair away from his eyes with my hand, and kissed him lightly on the forehead. For a moment his dark eyes flickered into those of Angelina and I felt the urge to kiss her. When Seven’s face came back into focus, I still felt that same urge but I restrained myself, though his eyes showed no resistance to what he sensed in me. Instead I kissed him slowly and lovingly again on the forehead.

Without his noticing, I took a one-hundred dollar bill out of the sideboard drawer and slipped it into his pocket.

Later I went to Dr. Hill’s apartment again.  Mary said Dr. Hill was out but would return soon if I wanted to wait.

It was the first time I had seen his apartment. It was as sparse as a prison cell. The apartment was clean. There was no furniture other than two chairs, a table and a sideboard; standing against either wall to the right and left were two wooden stands.

I tried making small talk.  I asked her how long she and her father had lived in the apartment.  She replied with a smile. “Dr. Hill is not my father.  He is my doctor, just as with you. Just as with many of the tenants of this building. We are his collection of oddities.”

My mind reeled at that information.  I found speaking difficult and couldn’t process what she could possibly mean.  

She continued, “I have been living with Dr. Hill since I was a child.  I am a hermaphrodite and Dr. Hill has been observing my transition from childhood to adult.  He photographs my genitals weekly.  It is important research that has never been done before.”

I only stared at her blankly.

Noticing my reaction she added, “It isn’t sexual, he seems to only see my parts as a medical curiosity.  At times I wish he did see me that way, I have never had any sexual experience since reaching puberty, it isn’t easy to find a partner for someone like me.”

After a moment’s silence she asked, “So, what is so weird about you that Dr. Hill has taken an interest. You seem pretty normal on the outside?”

My brain scrambled up images that made no sense.  I kept hearing her say, "We are his collection of oddities." 

“Are you okay?” Mary’s voice came to me from far, far away.  I must have been sitting there in a trance for a longer time than I realized for her to be so concerned.

There was nothing to do but pour out my whole story to Mary. As if I were talking to a friend I had known all my life and from whom I had no secrets, I told her the truth about myself, how I had learned from Zac that at some time, years ago, I had been hospitalized and my memory of my past suppressed for my own good. I told her how I was frightened of the moment when everything would come back to me.

She had moved her chair close to mine, and was listening with deep, breathless sympathy, which comforted me more than I expected. At last I had found someone with whom I could talk.

She leaned in, “I get it, I have a similar fear of a memory. The world is more beautiful when I close my eyes and see it in my imagination than in real life.”


- to be continued
Collecting has a very long history. In the early times of mankind, people collected food to eat. 

Today, collecting means to systematically search for objects, to locate and acquire them, maybe organize them and display them. Any object in the world can become an object for collecting. Usually, people collect small objects for reasons of space. There are two kinds of collectors: The systematic collector who wants to possess all objects of a theme or a company. On the other hand we have the unsystematic collector who collects only things that have a special meaning to him or remind him of something. Rare objects have a special attraction to collectors. That’s why objects can be released in limited quantities from the beginning.The most typical objects for collecting are postcards, coins, stamps, stickers, antiques, autographs, books, records, paintings, clocks or military objects.
But people say there is no object in the world that isn’t being collected by somebody.

Now, as we are in summer school, Professor Robotka would like to have a look at the psychological aspects of collecting.

Whereas collecting used to be a means of surviving in the past, nowadays it is a means of possessing things. The urge to possess something can be a showing off of power. It can be a symptom of dominating. The hunt for an object can even lead to criminal acts. Often, people who cannot deal with daily life very easily, escape into the world of collecting. In that world, they can achieve success and people who have difficulties with social contact can also hide behind their objects of desire. Now, one cannot discuss something psychological without mentioning Sigmund Freud, especially if he lives in Vienna, like myself, and studied psychology. Not very surprisingly, Freud saw collecting as a sublimation and compensation of sexual desires. Finally, collecting can also be a means to overcome a fear of a lack of things. Often people who had traumatic experiences (for example, a war) later collect things to make sure there will never be a shortage of them again.

In its extreme form, collecting can lead to an addiction. Collectors can start to neglect their partners, all social contacts or even themselves. 

Of course, there are also a lot of positive aspects to collecting. It can help to reduce stress and in societies that have a lot of free time, it is a means against getting bored. Collecting can also broaden your horizon. People can become experts on a subject. Some collectors also love to meet other collectors to share their enthusiasm. So, collecting cannot only lead to isolation, but also help with socializing. It can be a good starting point for communicating. If a collector acquires a huge amount of knowledge about the subject of his choice, he can gain a higher status in a society. People who collect paintings can loan these to museums. And finally, some objects can become valuable. Collecting can be a means of acquiring wealth. 

There is also the phenomenon of de-collecting, of destroying a collection. But that is a different subject. You can now go out into the sunshine and enjoy the summer.

                    - Prof. Robotka

As a follow up to Professor Robotka's article, I offer this new thought on addiction.
Q: When Bobuck wrote music for The Residents, I'm am sure he got some feedback and changes were made. But today, he is working alone?

The Residents is, in addition to an artistic entity, a business.  There is a team of people involved in the productions and distribution of music, for instance: other musicians, studios, producers, record companies, publicists, lawyers, accountants, agents, touring management and staff, etc. and they all need to get paid.  So yes, there was feedback and sometimes entire projects were abandoned for financial reasons.

Bobuck is now like a Sunday painter.  He is not a business.  He amuses himself, giving music away on-line or contributing his sales earnings to charity.  The result is that he feels fewer constraints in his music.  He has no management nor accountants.  No agents nor publicists.

I suppose, he does have me and Walter at Klanggalerie so he isn't exactly without support and feedback.  Mostly he just piddles along as he wishes.

Q: Who does the vocals on Whoopy Snorp?

The Residents have always liked using different voices on tunes.  Variety.  That has tended to be less true lately with a defined singing guy, but in the past there have been lots of different singers.  And when we step back to early '70's the best place to find a different sounding voice was right in the office.  That voice belongs to Jay Clem.  Jay was game for just about anything in the early days, but the more he settled into the business role of running Ralph Records, the less he was interested in what we were up to in the studio.  I think he did something on Not Available too, but that might have been his final visit to the studio.  He liked the control he had with Ralph, that was his art.

For those who don't know who Jay is, he was one of the five founding member of The Cryptic Corporation.  As you can tell, his thing was Ralph Records.  When the "New Wave" movement lost momentum in the early '80's, Jay saw the writing on the wall and got out of the music business.  He was the second of the five originals to leave the operation.

Q:  I've been enjoying the Summer School series.  The latest one urges me to have a conversation, though.  Throughout that video, as it painted a gloomier future for humanity, I kept saying to the video "but you're assuming that everybody wants to work."  I feel the big change will really be when our civilization accepts that we can actually spend our lives doing things we enjoy. 
I like to think that we'll be able to accept a ten-hour work week as being a good thing for us, even though I have a general, low opinion of human nature. 
Basically what I'm saying is: I for one welcome our new robot overlords.

I had a similar reaction since so many jobs are shitty and only done for money.  I think you, any of you, should come up with a new  system.  We already know that Capitalism has positive and negative aspects, as do Socialism and Communism.  We need a new idea, I believe one that is not based on money or religion.

As an older gentleman, I remember fifty years ago, 1967, there was an attempt to redefine society with alternative thinking and behavior.  Perhaps the next time something like that happens we will get longer lasting results.  The catalyst might be those overlords you are welcoming.

Bobuck's music treat for this newsletter

Next time we meet on Hacienda Bridge.
Summer School is almost over and while all the kids are buying new notebooks and binders at Walmart, you will be free of the shackles of Summer School.

Web Site    
Hacienda Bridge Blog
iTunes Bookstore
The Residents
Me as a cat with Trump as president
Copyright © 2017 Hacienda Bridge, All rights reserved.

Want to change how you receive these emails?
You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list

Email Marketing Powered by Mailchimp