Herzog is a miserable, hateful, malevolent, avaricious, money-hungry, nasty, sadistic, treacherous, cowardly creep…he should be thrown alive to the crocodiles! An anaconda should strangle him slowly! A poisonous spider should sting him and paralyze his lungs! The most venomous serpent should bite him and make his brain explode! No panther claws should rip open his throat–that would be much too good for him! Huge red ants should piss into his lying eyes and gobble up his balls and his guts! He should catch the plague! Syphilis! Yellow fever! Leprosy! It’s no use; the more I wish him the most gruesome deaths, the more he haunts me. – Klaus Kinski in Kinski Uncut.
Your god is a mushroom cloud. The Church of the Nuclear Christ. Mushroom Cloud Messiah. The fallout mission. That would put the real fear in you. Yes, forget this Christ guy. He died for you. Now you die for me. That would be real cool to see you praying to an ICBM missile. Watching you on television, kneeling to a perfect, gleaming warhead. Now that’s a real idea. Guaranteed destruction. Forget the second coming. You give me the missiles and I’ll melt heaven. I’ll blow your saints to Lawndale. That would be great to see you grovel in front of a god that you could see, that you could touch. Only an idiot would believe that some god in the sky is going to wreck the place. Let me give you something that you could really believe in. Don’t you want, don’t you really need something to believe in? Something solid? Something to calm your nerves? Yes, look to me. Let me supply you with your faith. The Church of the Real Deal. Have mercy? Why? You’re into destruction. Forget needles and suicide. I am offering you something better. You love to be controlled. You dig ownership and control inflicted upon you. Now you can kneel and confess and pray and grovel to something that offers you ultimate carnage without judgment or concession. Isn’t that what you want? Yeah it is. Henry Rollins from Get in the Van
Oscar was not into serious street-fighting, but he was hell on wheels in a bar brawl. Any combination of a 250 lb Mexican and LSD-25 is a potentially terminal menace for anything it can reach – but when the alleged Mexican is in fact a profoundly angry Chicano lawyer with no fear at all of anything that walks on less than three legs and a de facto suicidal conviction that he will die at the age of 33 – just like Jesus Christ – you have a serious piece of work on your hands. Especially if the bastard is already 33½ years old with a head full of Sandoz acid, a loaded .357 Magnum in his belt, a hatchet-wielding Chicano bodyguard on his elbow at all times, and a disconcerting habit of projectile vomiting geysers of pure blood off the front porch every 30 or 40 minutes, or whenever his malignant ulcer can’t handle any more raw tequila. – Hunter Thompson on Oscar Zeta Acosta in Rolling Stone Magazine (As a side note I wanted to find something on Oscar from Revolt of the Cockroach People, one of his autobiographies and a masterpiece of insanity, but I found nothing online that suited my needs.)
I love the poetry of insanity. I love it when a writer writes as if they have no concern of how they are perceived by the general public in their lifetime or after their death. There is some kind of noble truth to letting all of your perversions and impulses hang out. But it is more than this. Vulgarity and insanity, when pushed far enough, become a kind of poetry. The show Deadwood understood this. Although Deadwood used Victorian language at times, it also trafficked in in a kind of vulgar language that reached the heights of art. Total commitment. It is taking the crude language and taboos of the day and making something beautiful out of them. It is the language of freedom, giving up the most important earthly possession of all, your ego, and the willingness to be liked, and casting it aside. I want peace and justice and love to become a reality for mankind on a daily basis. However, this kind of language serves a purpose in that no matter how counterintuitive that is. It frees the mind to go beyond the norms of everyday groupthink. The writing itself might not be more than a personalized truth, but it allows for a wider circle of exploration. Out there in the deep dark woods of the night might be a glimmer of truth that sets you free.