Charles Platt’s 1979 interview with Phillip K. Dick
Phillip K. Dick is a fascinating figure for me. Terribly unstable yet visionary. He said several profound things during the above interview by Charles Platt. I was especially intrigued by the part about how someone with a powerful psyche can invade the psyches of others.
He admits to being easily persuadable. While undergoing “attack therapy” he found himself agreeing with statements about himself he knew to be false. Exactly the same mechanism used to extract false confessions and create cults and totalitarianism.
It gave me an image: Comic book thought bubbles, floating around invisibly, taking form in the actions of people.
It’s interesting to think about political and cultural changes not as people & countries making decisions, but more like clouds of psychic energy, traveling through the airwaves, through the Internet, through advertising and political campaigns.
Battling it out and making alliances. Merging and splitting apart. Some more powerful than others. Many small ones, gradually absorbed into larger ones.
I’m not a New Ager. I don’t believe in “psychic energy” per se. It’s mostly a metaphor, but a hell of a strong one.
I’m an old white guy and I am very confused about the word “woke.” It’s one of those new slang words that just popped up and now it’s everywhere. I know where it came from, but I am very confused about where it’s gone.
I can’t make it very far through a social media thread these days without seeing “woke” used as a complaint about something I had no idea I was supposed to be worried about.
If I could just address one question to my fellow white folks… I would just like to know this: Where the hell did you even pick that up and how did it turn out to be this huge catch-all word?
“Woke” is an AAVE word (African American Vernacular English). A dialect most people who look like me don’t speak. There’s not a damn thing wrong with having a dialect. We all have one – I grew up in the country and most of us certainly did.
I know this because I first heard it in Dear White People, a show on Netflix that white people tend not to watch. Ironically enough. I like to watch things I suspect weren’t targeted at me. I like seeing things from new angles.
Us white folks always pick up black slang. Gradually our dialect changes. It’s the way languages work.
I enjoy listening to AAVE. If you’re into hip hop you can hardly miss it. I’m sure it’s a good percentage of my vocabulary by this point. But the way we use it sometimes…
In Dear White People, a character asks, “Are you woke?” And it sounded strange at first, the way all new slang always does, but it in the story it meant “Are you aware of the unfairness of the system?” It seemed obvious. I went, huh, picked up a new word, and moved on.
“Do you hate white people?” or “Do you want to bring down Western Civilization?” never once popped into my head. It was just a new one for the file, like “no cap” or “ish.” (That last one is clever as shit.)
So you would think woke-ISM would mean, the process of seeing through the unfairness of society. Sounds pretty based to me. Who in hell, except for the wealthiest capitalists, thinks this society is fair – for any of us?
How the hell did seeing through the system and trying to reverse it become a catastrophe? Seems like it would be the other way around.
I have a problem with pronouns. Sometimes I say “them” when I mean “us” or “us” when I mean “them.” I can’t tell these days. But the hardest ones of all are “him” and “I.”
That thing I did 30 years ago, was it me or him? It sure feels like it was me, but what about the things that I would never do? That had to be somebody else…
Change your singular pronouns and you also change your plural ones. It gets really confusing.
Few people get to see your true face. Sometimes you don’t even see it yourself. The one you show the world is usually a mask, a persona.
You kinda know it’s not really you, but it’s your “Sunday go to meeting” face, your “go along to get along” face. You take it off when you get home.
(Interesting how not wearing a mask can also be a mask.)
Identity is trickier. That’s the mask you show yourself. It might look like a “go along to get along” face, but you’ve been getting along so well, it doesn’t feel so much like a mask. Until it does.
But as you live and learn, something changes.
One day you the mask doesn’t feel like an “I” anymore. It becomes “him” (or her or they or it, but for me it was “him”).
The people you considered “us” tell you it’s beautiful, but you no longer love it and it’s heavy and it chafes and you want to take it off, but you know they won’t let you.
Gradually “us” turns into “them.” Which is rough, because in your dreams, you’re always “me” and the people you love are always “us.”
All day, every day, we are judged for the masks we wear and judged if we don’t wear mask – especially then. Mask salesmen abound, telling us “this is the last one you’ll ever need,” if you can afford it.
Jeff Noon, the most psychedelic sci fi writer since Rudy Rucker, wrote an interesting novel called Mappalujo about a mysterious land where masks play a major role. I didn’t understand the symbolism when I read it the first time, but I do now.
I’ve worn many masks over the years. I identified so strongly with some of them, I refused to believe that’s what they were, even as they began slipping off. But sooner or later I had to admit it. This is not who I am.
When enough “I’s” turned out to be “hims,” the message started to sink in: They’re all masks.
Though it still hurts like hell when you take them off. Especially when you have no idea what’s underneath, and people you considered “us” suddenly become “them” to you. That’s the pronoun problem I wish I could solve, because I like my people like I like my music – eclectic and all over the world.
I swear I’m a music lover, not a music snob. All snobs do is turn people off. Sure it feels lonesome being the only one who knows or likes a band and having no one to discuss it with, but taste is subjective. If you wanna listen to K-pop, listen to K-pop.
Mr. Bungle – Air Conditioned Nightmare
Unfortunately there’s a little asshole in my brain I call Mr. Hipster. He’s one of the Jungian shadows I try to ignore. Every now and then he comes out like Mr. Hyde and sneers at somebody for liking something “objectively bad.”
“You have a right to your wrong opinion,” he says to my wife, who just rolls her eyes. (She doesn’t like The Beatles, which doesn’t compute for Mr. Hipster.)
He’s usually right, but he’s damn annoying. He made dating so difficult.
Mr. Bungle – California, full album. Listen to it however.
I was listening to Mr. Bungle a little bit ago and wanted to make sure my friend knew how awesome their album California was in case I forgot to mention it, and nag him until he listened to it. I do that to people (in my defense, he does it too).
That article killed me. For one thing, the feud was way more ridiculous than I remembered.
For another, Greg Gutfeld at Fox going off on the Chili Peppers because he was a rabid Faith No More fan, was just too much.
If you’re gonna have a strong opinion about something, better it be about an ancient feud between musicians.
Mr. Bungle cover Under the Bridge while pretending to be the Red Hot Chili Peppers – to mock them. Note how many comments sound just like Gutfeld and Mr. Hipster.
“Nothing personal,” says Mr. Hipster. “But how anyone could listen to Mr. Bungle’s California album and still give a shit about the Red Hot Chili Peppers is a legitimate question.” That’s how he talks.
Oh, and he would also like to add, “Flea is still awesome.”
If I’m serious, Mr. Bungle is an acquired taste. If you want to acquire it, start with California.
Their albums Disco Volante and the self-titled debut were kinda rough to listen to at first, though now I can’t figure out why I had a problem with them.
There are a couple of fan-made Mr. Bungle videos I wanted to include, for “Pink Cigarette” and “Retrovertigo,” but they’re really violent. They’re also really creative and kind of funny in a dark way. I think the guy who made them has Hollywood Horror movie potential.
Secret Chiefs 3 – Exodus
Incidentally, I may be MORE of a fan of Mr. Bungle guitarist Trey Spruance’, after discovering’s band Secret Chiefs 3. It’s as unique as Mr. Bungle.
They rock with a Sufi/Bollywood vibe, but they’ll throw in any style including death metal. They’ve made some incredible albums and they’ll come up again on this blog. Mr. Hipster insists.
Definitely going to check this podcast out. I have a ton of respect for this guy. He’s actually a damn great bass player and a real intellectual.
“I wasn’t even supposed to be here!” I thought on the first day of the lockdown, and I laughed and laughed, because because I fully expected to be Raptured as a teenager on Jan. 1, 1984.
Now here I was in my late 50s, waiting for a plague that had everyone emptying shelves and crowding into gun stores. I felt like the guy in Clerks who came in on his day off, only to face one disaster after another.
If I got left behind, so did y’all
Daniel Knox – Armageddonsong
My little Baptist church was having a New Year’s Eve party (no alcohol) on Dec. 31, 1983. We’d had a good potluck in the Fellowship Hall and were holding hands, standing in a circle. We had finished singing “Blessed Be the Tie that Binds” and someone began counting down from 10.
I hadn’t told anyone, but I knew the Rapture was going to happen at the stroke of midnight. I had pieced it together after reading Revelation and listening to radio preachers. I couldn’t possibly have been influenced by the title of a famous book…
Five, four, three, two, one, aaaaand… Nothing.
The Handsome Family – When That Helicopter Comes
Time to pack up dishes and say our goodbyes. I thought about waiting, in case Jesus was on Mountain or Pacific, but I knew there was no point. I felt like a complete fool.
The Summer Camp Preacher
Jill Tracy – Doomsday Serenade
My Rapture obsession started on the last night of my last year of church camp. I was sitting in the tabernacle with a bunch of other kids my age and younger. A thunderstorm was brewing and the air was still and humid.
The preacher told us we’d better be ready. Stores were installing equipment to read Number of the Beast barcode tats. Rock music and Dungeons and Dragons were preparing children for the Antichrist. There was trouble in the Middle East and America and Russia were ready to fight that final battle.
The Rapture was coming. You would either meet Jesus in the air or be left behind to live through the Time of Tribulation. “Do not miss the Rapture,” he said, preparing for the Invitation. “But if you do, don’t say we didn’t warn you!”
Bob Marley and the Wailers – Midnight Ravers
You could try being one of the 144,000 martyrs who defied the Beast, but your suffering would be horrific. At least there was a loophole, I thought, but he had me rattled. What if I had only fooled myself and I wasn’t saved?
We held hands as the pianist played, “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus.” I liked holding hands with the girl next to me. She was cute. Which worried me even more. Thinking about girls at a time like this?
Suddenly there was a loud crack of thunder, and rain pounded the metal roof. The cute girl let go of my hand and headed to the front. Others followed and I joined them. I said the right words, prayed with a counselor and filled out a card.
I don’t think my hometown preacher liked the sermon. He asked a lot of questions. But I knew what to say. A week later, I had my third baptism – or was it the fourth? (Pro-tip: Always check your pockets before you get baptized. Lost a good wallet.)
So over it…
Meat Beat Manifesto – Paradise Now
When the Rapture failed to happen on the night I’d chosen, my end of the world mania stopped. I quit accepting everything the preachers said. I didn’t want to hear any more theories about the End Times. It would happen or it wouldn’t.
I resented the summer camp preacher. That was a shitty way to treat children. I bet he created a lot of future atheists. It was over the top, but it worked for a reason. I grew up surrounded by that kind of talk.
We watched films where people vanished, leaving only clothes and shocked sinners If something scary happened in the world, people would shake their heads and go, “Wars and rumors of wars.” They’d talk about their theories in Sunday School. Would the Time of Tribulation come before or after the Rapture?
But the verse about how “no one knows the day or the hour” (Matthew 24:36) kept it from getting out of hand. You didn’t have to figure it out. It was just “soon.” They didn’t sell their shit and kept going to work like regular people.
Beam me up Scotty
I could have done without that particular religious trauma, but I understand why Christians get excited about the Rapture. You know the saying, “Everybody wants go to heaven but nobody wants to die.” Wouldn’t you rather go to heaven in a whirlwind like Elijah than die of cancer?
I know why I fell for it. It wasn’t just the camp preacher if I’m honest. I was stressed out, worried about the future. The Cold War was stressful. Everyone had a nuke with his name on it.
Even worse, I was about to graduate high school and had no idea who I was or what to do with my life. If the world ended, I would be off the hook. Too bad though, I had to figure it out.
Now the world is in a bigger mess than it was in ’84. Lots of man-made apocalypses coming down the pike – climate change, political and economic instability and out of control AI.
I don’t know how the hell I’m going to deal with all that. I’d like nothing more than to have Scotty beam me up, but I learned my lesson. The earth will always be my home, like it or not. I have to figure it out. We all do.
James Baldwin changed my life. Reading “Another Country” taught me more about America than anything I learned in college. If they taught this book in high school civics classes, we would iron this country out in no time.
And I got in on a whim. I thought, I am such a voracious reader why haven’t I read any black literature? I couldn’t think of a reason, I just hadn’t gotten around to it.
Mainly because I was a sci fi nerd. I loved literature, but I was more likely to read a Peter Hamilton space opera if given a chance. But I wanted to know what I was missing.
I had heard Baldwin’s name thrown around a lot. Apparently respected for speaking out in the ’60s.
The book I started with was Another Country. Since then, I’ve come to depend on him for perspective on race in America.
Another Country taught me how the systems of power really work in America. The system of white supremacy that is invisible to us white people. This is true in both our liberal and conservative classes.
As sharp as his critiques are, I love Baldwin because he actually gave a shit about us white folks, when he had plenty of reason not to.
Some of the lessons I took from Another Country:
A white woman can always use race to get her way in an argument. You know the “Karen” thing that recently switched from “I’m calling the manager” to, “Do you have your papers?” Excuse me, “Do you live in this neighborhood?”
A woman, including a black woman, can try to use sex to obtain power over a man, but if that man is white and rich, he’s usually going to win in the end.
That honesty with yourself may be painful, but it’s still the best policy. Things tend to go better if you’re honest with yourself and others.
The Match – A New Light LP (individual songs are linked)
Suddenly I feel like I’m 6. A New Light by The Match is streamable via YouTube and Spotify. (I may have to track down the CD in case it one day isn’t.)
I’ve tried to hunt this album down for years. I couldn’t find anything about them going back decades. I wondered if I imagined them. But these songs were down on my gray matter somewhere. I remember them.
Listening to this album reminds me of old TV themes, ’60s movies set in Europe and of course Mom and Dad. They used to play this all the time. At home and in the car (on a homemade cassette – this was early ’70s).
This is soft rock, very of its time (1969), with lush music and beautiful harmonies.
They remind me of The Association and The Carpenters – especially “Saturday Night,” the one hit where Richard sang lead.
When I was an editor at small town papers, you could always get a feature story in a pinch by asking for a tour of a local factory. I could fill a lot of column inches in a hurry. I knew they would hook me up.
I didn’t really mind, to be honest. I got to geek out. Factories have a lot of science-y stuff in them. You just asked how everything worked, took a lot of notes and wrote up your story. Easy peasy.
I learned what the Venturi effect was in one of those, a factory that made gizmos for moving material around in factories. They also made a device that fired confetti at football games.
At another factory, I learned that a wedge of Styrofoam inside a box of wine will help you get every drop. I had a curious mind and it was all very interesting.
And these factories hired a lot of people in town. It felt like a public service. Anything to help your local companies succeed, and not un-coincidentally – advertise. I still believed in Trickle Down theory back then and I thought: company does good, local economy does good.
The towns I worked in tended to be at or just above broke. There were honest to God poor people in my coverage area and there’s no poor like country poor – no services, no nothing.
I developed a really Chamber of Commerce-y attitude. If it brought in jobs, I was for it. I didn’t know what else to dol I saw some of the pressures these towns were under. If a company closed up shop, people had to work in the city and commute. They spent their money elsewhere and everyone lost.
Amon Tobin – Esther’s
If a town depends on a company – especially if it advertises – the newspaper will be a friend of that company.
One of my favorites was a tour of a brick factory. It was a long building with lots of coal burning inside long kilns. The ovens were black on the outside smelled like a fresh-baked bread. The men at the plant carried on around us, working very hard. Many were immigrants, all of them were poor.
I saw them working the assembly lines, moving huge loads of around, sweat pouring off, and I respected them. I couldn’t lift a fraction of that weight, even once. They had to do it all day. It was obviously a hard life, but what other work was there?
After I saw the whole process of clay to brick, the guys in management pointed at the “new” factory in the field next door. Everything would be automated. I wondered how those hard-working men felt, seeing the new factory spring up next door at the place that paid their rent.
I couldn’t help but think that company owed those men something. Still the company also had a side. They were automating because their competitors were automating. They’re caught up in the machine like everybody else.
I did what I always did, filled up all the white space, got the paper out, started working on the next one. But that brick plant gave me an eerie feeling. It wasn’t going to stop with factories. I was online constantly, but I knew the internet was about to eat my lunch. Technology was coming for us.
If there’s anything science fiction and fantasy have taught me it’s that magic forces are dangerous. Think of what happened in The Sandman when the wrong guy got hold of that ruby.
Last night as I was drifting off, I had the weirdest vision. I was in a dark cavern with a ceiling so high and broad it looked like a sky. A dark red membrane of a sky. Above that ceiling, I knew, was the “real” world.
Down from that ceiling flew a murmuration of blackbirds – or what looked like blackbirds, patterns shifting and disappearing into the dark. “This is where the ideas live before we catch them,” I thought sleepily.
Bjork – All the Modern Things
Where DO the ideas live before they take shape? Do we fill that realm with blackbirds or do we catch them and drag them into this one?
Clarke’s Law is still true in the modern age. It takes mines and factories and communication networks, but ideas involving technology do kind of seem like magic.
If you have the right math, science and materials, you can pluck computers, bombs, particle accelerators out of thin air. If you don’t look at the pollution, the illusion holds.
When a powerful thought comes through that membrane, we always seem to turn it into a way to kill lots of people. The conjurers never seem to worry. “Look what it can do! Let’s give it to the world. Whee!”
Michael Crichton used to annoy me. “There are some things man was never meant to know. Dun dun dunnnnn” seemed to be the theme of all his books. That was no fun. I wanted as many dinosaurs as I could get.
But I’ve been coming around to his point of view. People who haven’t read Destination Void have unleashed technology that comes disturbingly close to passing the Turing Test. I was afraid of nuclear war, but I’m more afraid of this. At least they didn’t put a nuke in everybody’s pocket.
The only thing that’s kept us from blowing up the world so far has been threatening to blow up the world. I don’t know how long that’s gonna hold.
Why do the war monkeys known as humans have to turn every important idea into a way to kill one another? I wish we could put more resources into answering that question.
Beau of the Fifth Column gives his take on Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” as a gift to public school teachers.
I was a big Billy Joel fan who kinda felt like he lost his way with An Innocent Man, even though it had a lot of hits. Another classic rock guy who crashed into New Wave.
First time I heard Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” I thought, “Hey, return to form.” I will still defend Billy Joel to any music hipster who comes at me, but I wasn’t empressed with the other songs on Storm Front (Hmm. Unfortunate album title nowadays…)
But I still love that single. It deserved to be a smash hit. It made an important subject fun to a lot of people, which is the first step toward making them curious.
I just discovered a fun video of Beau of the Fifth Column doing a version of that song that mentions other world events. Excellent idea. Way more history took place during the Cold War than could ever go into one song. You could make a million just like it.
I got C’s in most of my History classes even though it was a minor, but I couldn’t resist a great story, though I had a hell of a time remembering when they happened for the test. I’m still glad I took those classes. Knowing history is a great way to guess the future.
Late Boomer's Den 
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