Archive for the ‘History’ Category

Dear Burning Man,

When I saw the news flash of a meteorite hitting Russia today I immediately ascribed it’s origins to Burning Man.  As a long time Burner, how could I not?  For more on this unique event I went to the source, BurningMan.com.  What I found was a cover up of all evidence the meteorite stirke was caused by the people who run Burning Man.  Burners.me will soon have the full story I am sure.

The Real Burning Man Project?

Instead what I found was a recent posting on the 2012 Burning Man Census helpfully entitled:  BRC Census: Were You Counted? Did You Count? Can You Count?  And it dawned on me.  My camp, the eternal Bumblepuss, is Burning Man.

Just look at these numbers and tell me I’m wrong:

AGE
Under 20 years: 4% (1% – 7%)
20 – 40 years: 71% (65% – 77%)
Over 40 years: 24% (19% – 29%)
Average age: 34 (33 – 36)

CURRENT GENDER
Female: 38% (32% – 44%)
Male: 60% (56% – 65%)
Both/neither/fluid: 1.5% (< 1% – 3%)

Percent of population who are at Burning Man for the FIRST TIME
39%* (32% – 45%)

TICKET SOURCE
Burning Man: 60% (55% – 64%)
friend: 27% (25% – 28%)
stranger: 6% (2% – 11%)
third party reseller: 3.3% (2.6% – 4.1%)

TICKET PRICE
More than face value: 6% (4% – 7%)
Face value: 74% (72% – 75%)
Less than face value: 8% (5% – 11%)
Gift: 5% (3% – 7%)

MISCELLANEOUS
Percent of eligible voters who VOTED in at least one of the last four federal US elections
83% (80% – 87%)

Political party affiliation among eligible voters
Democratic: 34% (30% – 38%)
None: 33% (26% – 40%)
Republican: 24% (18% – 29%)
Other: 3.5% (2% – 5%)
Green: 1.5% (< 1% – 2.2%)

Percent of the population for whom English is their first language
86% (81% – 90%)

Percent of population who reside in the US
76% (59% – 93%)

Except the fact that Bumblers are all hedonistic consequentialists practicing radical anarcho-syndicalism in all aspects in our lives and thus uniformly vote Republican, sans two wild and wooly Kantian Canadians, you basically nailed the nail on the head with the Burning Hammer of Truth.

Because of this radical self expression of group similarity between Bumblepuss and Burning Man I suggest that in 2013 you simply take a census at Bumblepuss.  This would save the time and money of the BMorg and perhaps lower the ticket prices by .25¢.  Volunteers could be used for other purposes such as staying in Reno and preparing the Grand Sierra Resort for the after party.   Finally, those concerned with the relentless measurement-ization of Burning Man would have their worse Orwellian fears simultaneously assuaged and inflamed.

We at Bumblepuss after a long days work helping naked people into the Steambath Project puff our chests out, put our hands up and say,

“Count Us, Burning Man; for We, Bumblepuss, are Burning Man!”

About these ads

Dear Consumptives – the following fond remembrance of Daniel ‘Dany Boy’ Inouye, Senator, War Hero and Dead Man was submitted anonymously by an old friend who I once knew as The Minister of Tolerance.

mortuum flagellas,mea culpa, Danny Boy, Senator

Mortuum Flagellas, Mea Culpa,   Danny Boy, Senator

Senator Danny Inouye; a Remembranc

by The Minister of Tolerance

Following the most timely demise of our U.S. Senate President Pro Tempore, I was asked to recall my fondest memory of the senior Senator from our westernmost colony. Thought I’d share it with you:

The year was 1993. I, a lowly page for the House of Representatives was carrying a whole bunch of boxes over to one of the Senate office buildings, because, as you may know, Senate pages are far too busy filling water glasses and taking naps to perform physical work. Said boxes were probably heavy and certainly unwieldy, as I expect they contained the budget books. (Flashback:  Those were the OBRA years, halcyon days in which Congress actually managed to pass Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Acts for the entire government! All at once! Every year, no less! They were contained in ridiculously long green-covered tomes from the Government Printing Office that had to be distributed — one per office — throughout the Capitol Complex.)

So anyhoo, here I am, minding my own business, not doing anything too important (just ensuring the continuity of government in the capital of the free world; y’know, nothing major), struggling with all that stuff. I took a bit of a shortcut by riding the subway over to the office complex belonging to Congress’ Elderly Chamber (that is, the Senate). Standing up in the train, I peered over the glass to ensure nobody was coming (those were the old trains, before the Spendthrift Chamber — that is, the Senate — blew all sorts of money on unnecessary robot shuttles), and proceeded to step off with the intent to make my way upstairs.

Contemporaneously, and unbeknownst to me, an old guy from Hawaii was walking around with a bunch of his yes-men, no doubt plotting evil. I have no proof that said evil involved something about making sure that the intern from Indonesia would be able to deliver said Senator’s eulogy in the next century:

“But, sir, we’ll never get Barry Soetoro elected! His name sounds too much like Suharto! Besides, his mother is a… well, let’s just say her name is Stan.”

“Silence, you fool! Just use your last name on the phony birth certificate!”

“But… but… sir, I’m Irish! Nobody will believe his name is O’Bama!”

“Didn’t I tell you to be silent, fool? Haven’t you ever heard of the black Irish?! Now do it before I strike you down with my Hattori Hanzo steel!”

Anyhoo, while the gentleman from Hawaii (state motto: “It’s spelled Hawai’i, dipshit!”) was tossing rude epithets toward his yes-man, said member of the Senior Politicians’ Tour Chamber — that is, the Senate — charged ahead onto the train, specifically in my direction, as fast as his legs could carry him… ultimately slamming full-on into the stack of boxes that poor li’l ol’ me was attempting to lug.

Now, I’m no expert in Newtonian physics, but I know he was doing some kind of evil that violated natural law, because the force apparently acted upon HIM and not me, almost as though I were the one not watching where I was going — which, as you know, is quite impossible.

So at that point, Sen. In-No-Way slammed into the boxes I was carrying, which caused him to tip backwards and nearly fall on his senatorial keister.

It made a noise not unlike *THUD!*, to which the senator replied, “Oof!”

Fortunately for the member of that most august Near-Death Chamber — that is, the Senate — his yes-man was standing directly in line with said keister, absorbing the impact and ensuring that our first Japanese-American Senator remained upright.

Nevertheless, the gentleman from you-know-where had a touch of trouble stabilizing himself, as the spot where the boxes hit was unusual, as it was missing an arm.

Oops.

All I remember was ensuring my ID and nametag was covered up as I hightailed it out of there.

The moral of this story? None, except that we can prove that the senior Senior from the Five-Oh state has (had) no sense of humor, because — at no point — and in no way — (get it? In no way? Inouye? Ha! I kill me!) — in no way did he say, “Nyuk nyuk nyuk.”

Black Rock City -

I met this very same fire at a Burn Barrel on a chilly night near Opulent Temple in 2006 – I’m glad to see he is still burning strong…

Victoria, Australia (CN) – Australia’s sole academic journal concerned with cultural issues and stuff, Meanjin, recently published an article about Burning Man that has breathed new life into the slowly dying desert event.

The author of the article makes several controversial claims about Burning Man such as:

“I worried about the penises…”

“Burning Man began in 1986 on Baker Beach in San Francisco…”

“…bizarre goat-slapping ceremonies involving ridiculous paper-mache goats…” [Editors Note: Fact -There was no paper-mache, that goat was made of asbestos and transcendence.]

Founded by makers of fine cold Australian brew, VB, Meanjin has been published off and on more or less quarterly since 2009.  Since the issue was published around beer o’clock on Wednesday the reaction has been mainly positive.

“We think the reaction has been good,” said Meanjin Editor Sally Heath reached at a payphone at the Laundry Bar in Fitzroy.   “It’s hard to say really.  We don’t allow comments and integration with the Facebook and the Twitter is a bit bourgeoisie.  We’re working class.  I mean I wouldn’t be caught dead in Vaucluse, even to visit my parents.”

Sally enjoys a word with her sponsor

“Meanjin will almost certainly have a themecamp at the Burn this year,” enthused article author Simone Ubaldi.  “The theme ‘Wild West’ is a bit lame, but we’ll make due.  20,000 hippies aren’t going to mock me in your article are they?”

“20,000 hippies can go to hell,” screamed Burning Man founder Larry Harvey from a scratchy payphone near his winter dasha on the Black Sea.  “The Burn has felt a bit flat since, well, at least Green Man.  This article is just the ‘Melbourican Quicksilver’ we need to jump start the event back to life.”

Australian classic 'Young Einstein' was watched by dozens in 2011

Oolong Burners, a branch of the American Tea Party movement expressed concern for the growing Antipodean influence at the event north of Reno.

“The Kiwis were all over The Temple of Transition this year,”  said Oolong Spokesperson Tommy T-Baggin responding via e-mail. “You couldn’t get within 50 metres, I mean yards and if I did mean meters I’d spell it the American way…anyhoo… Ashram Galatica was positively smashed with Aussies.  If we don’t watch it Alice Springs will be the new Gerlach in no time.  Have you ever been to the Walmart in Alice Springs?  Me neither, but $10 says it’s terrible.”

Over the years Meanjin has achieved notoriety in it’s homeland for taking on various cultural taboos including:

  • Top 10 places to Purchase Heroin in Redfern
  • Gee Twenty – The Average Australian Vocabulary and John Howard
  • Essendon vs Collingwood – Why Victorian Sports Suck
  • Burning Beds – Cultural Hegemony and Midnight Oil
  • Flight of the Reactionaries  – The False Consciousness of Kiwi Humor

Burn Night 1952

Special Thanks to Coburn Hawk for finding this piece of Burning Man History.

Can anyone spot Larry Harvey?  I think I can.

Found here:  http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lwvq87eZqv1qz6f9yo1_500.jpg

 

 

Nectar Village HQ, San Francisco (CN) – As the below news footage from Burning Man 2011 demonstrate Placement are always the hardest folks to deal with at the Event North of Reno.

For more information about Nectar Village and the mysterious Soup mentioned by Adolf check out:

Nectar Village Origins Part 1

Guest History: The Greatest Burn

Posted: October 19, 2011 in BurningMan, History
Tags: ,

The Greatest Burn

by Ben
Without a doubt, the greatest burn ever was the Burn of 1553.  I arrived on the playa that year, early arrival as usual, to find it festering with bears.  Now these weren’t just any old bears, these were polar bears bedecked in tuxedos, each equipped with a guitar.  We paid them no mind and set up our giant subwoofers at 2:00, ready to blare solid beats for Lady Jane Grey and her entourage–well-known ravers all.  But every time we’d take a break, we’d come back to find our speakers disassembled and packed away again.

After a few days of this, it was getting close to the time for the unwashed masses to come in.  We were way behind schedule, and couldn’t make any headway with all of our work being undone.  So we decided to spy on our speakers to see what we could see.

We lay in wait for hours.  Then we saw something strange: one of the bears approached our speaker.  He said, “I’ll give you a nickel to tickle my pickle.”  I couldn’t believe it–he was hitting on the speaker!  Another of the bears approached.  He started hitting on another speaker.  This went on for an hour.  Then, and this really surprised us, the speakers started to move slowly away from the bears, packing themselves up.  You could see from the way they moved that they were filled with disgust.

We came out of hiding, and the bears and the speakers froze.  They were all ashamed at the scene we had witnessed.  When we explained to them that we didn’t have any judgment about bear-speaker love, we all sat down to see whether we could work something out.

It turned out that the speakers were just upset that the bears hadn’t been listening to them.  And then it came out: the bears all liked to play only Pete Seeger songs.  So we came upon this–whenever we didn’t have a rave going on, we’d play Pete Seeger songs through the speakers, and the bears could listen and strum along on their guitars.

This arrangement worked out beautifully, and the speakers began playing our drum and bass with the sweetest beat and the best melodies.  Our camp was the place to be at that burn.  Twinks and nymphs and leprecauns filled the dance floor, powered all night by Timothy Leary and Hunter S. Thompson themselves.  Lao Tzu, Rumi, and L. Ron Hubbard subtly imparted wisdom through the vocal tracks of the music.  Che and Davy Crockett fired their guns into the air and at the ground, to keep the dancers on their toes. And a horde of butterflies hovered overhead, achingly beautiful to those who were sober and completely trippy to everyone else.  The hours before the temple burn, God Himself appeared and began to dance the simplest and most beautiful dance I had ever seen, moving to the music, and bringing us all along with Him, whether we were talented ballerinas or cripples without any feet.  After He departed, we turned the speakers to Jonathan Richman and Pete Seeger.  We wept.  The
n the bears left to hibernate and the rest of us went to watch the temple go down in flames.

That was a good burn!

The following truth falls like pearls from the lips and gilded onyx keyboard of Clear, a man who has many roles in Bumblepuss – High Holiest Highest Priest of Goat Slapping being first and foremost – bringer of many vibrant people to Bumble – massage artist – DPW representative and soon he’ll be cracking your ribcage open and massaging your heart as he undertakes an online course in cardiac surgery.

Please retain this for the records:

The Alternate Unabridged Version of Our people, where Burning Man Originated 
and how to roast an apple without getting your feet burned.
The night was one of the full eclipsed moon circa 2539 BC when the idea 
first hit our historical godfather’s ancestor le Gizzle del Pete…who was a 
dope gangsta style version of your classic Roman emperor, and the chief of 
the nomadic goat herding tribe the ~Umbfus’ious of Nec’ar V”lleege.  It was 
an ancient people who’s history could go back farther, but to what end, for 
Gizzle was the dopest chief off that ever made history.
His father’s ancestor, it is said, was the guide to Moses.  It is saidith 
and so it is written that the great P-Gizzle was the first of know man to 
step foot on the desert and piss clear.  From here, people reared him as a 
savior.  How could any man in a desert be hydrated they wondered.  The 
Gizzle said, I am the savior and leader and one day I will bring great peace 
to this desert.  I will lead a revolution of sorts and invention of sorts 
that will be the basis that saves humanity, the basis that allows humanity 
to evolve to the next level, conquer other planets, to go where no goat has 
ever gone before.
P-Gizzle roamed the lands on a vision quest, but before he left, he taught 
his people to cook a reguvination apple:

  • 1 Apple
  • Honey
  • 
Spirulina & 
Maca (or earth blend)
  • 1 Black handled mini knife/toothpick
  • Core Apple
  • 
(leaving the bottom fully intact so as to act a cup for the honey)
  • Heat Apple
  • 
Poke holes into apple from core towards skin (do not puncture skin)
  • Pour in Spirulina and Maca and Honey
  • Let sit overnight 
Eat Naked next day 
Steam Bath Project 
Massage 
Sit in sun/kitchen with other Bumblers 
Feel reguvinated

As time would have it, the Gizzle had been gone for what seemed centuries. 
Later we find out he met up with a homey named Jebus in the wilderness and 
granted him three wishes….long story.  Nonetheless, Gizzle returned home 
and the people were joyous, but upset they had lost their leader for so 
long.  They found he had returned with a man named Jebus.  They blamed this 
man for his having had taken away their leader.  Lies, said Gizzle, but 
nobody listened.  They burned Jebus.  It was…

The First Burning Man.

Later that night….they realized their wrong doing and built a temple in 
his honor. 
Gizzle said, “We shall burn this temple too for our mistake hath written 
history wrong! And I shallf forever be known as Jebus the savior, for I will 
return to the towns as he, and all the lands will know not that which has 
been mistaken here.  And as I am gone you will make this spot your camp 
forever and ever and ever forever.”
They made camp upon the spot and raised an apple  each to their leader.
That very night the first goat was 
slapped as Jebus, the leader, left.  It was his famous last words in which 
we recall today, “From henthforth hitherto ye shall never again have a 
leader.  For ye all will lead when leading and lead not when not leading. 
You will be the last and only tribe upon this planet of which will know the 
ways of the way.  You shall be aware that you will go into history, isolated 
in this desert as the only leaderless group ever and forever ever forever. 
Ye shall know and remember, that to lead is the false way of phophets and to 
slap is the true belief in self, humanity and the way.”  (Word for word as 
recorded by Broseephious the Righter in the year of Broseephious 1298 DB as 
in During Broseephious, which we are not sure what correlation it has to any 
other calender as he did not record anything else and lived isolated with 
the rest of the tribe from the rest of the world thereafter the recorded 
history.
Years later archeologists believe they have found the remains of this first 
tribe with their only weapon, device or food preparation tool in the Black 
Rock Desert where it is believed they lived during those times of old.  It 
is also believed they fashioned thier tiny knives and picks with the bone of 
goat, which is long gone and the handle yet still remain, of rock.  Today 
you find this rock between itself and the soft place we call playa.
It’s believed the camp Bumblepuss of Nectar Village and their holy Godfather 
T-Dizzle fled the desert in 1980 PDB as in Post During Brospephious when 
word came that a new people were to colonize the land, and they had a leader 
named Larry.  The people of Bumble decided it was time to let the world come 
to them and they did.  They opened up to a new way, they acted as if they’d 
never been to the desert and let the newbies believe it was a “discovery!” 
They populated the desert with these new peoples as one of them.  They even 
opened their own camp to particiapte in the goings ons with them.
It’s said when someone comes around Bumblepuss and asks, “Who’s in charge?” 
The best answer is “I am.”  Cause they don’t want anyone to know they, we, 
who we really are.  And Jebus forbid, the Burners of today start coming to 
the Bumblepuss asking, how do we live a utopian society like you have?  How 
did you figure it out in just the few short years since we’ve all been 
coming to the desert?  How come our camp has leaders and assistants and 
people in charge of this and work hours and shifts, and still nothing gets 
done, and still there are fights and dramas?  How is it your people has not 
a single list or leader and all is done and not a drama is in the air?
The Bumblers are said to usually direct the questions to the Goat…
And so it is said, and so it is written.

What follows is  a timeline of the history and development of Bumblepuss and Nectarvillage through the hagiographic eyes of, well, me.

1898 - Leon Czolgosz attends the Burn held that year in Havana which ended in a crude representation of The Man named ‘USS Maine’ blown to smithereens.

Saturday Night

1901 – Having a particularly hard decompression after searching for bacon grease fried falafel for years without success Leon assassinates King McKinley at Akron Ohio’s one and only subway stop.  He is quickly convicted but before being hung by the neck until death gives birth to Soup and Marc through his armpit.  Soup and Marc are separated soon after birth.

Daddy Leon

1935 – Akron, OH – Soup and Marc find themselves mysteriously re-united in the town of their fathers downfall in a tuberculosis ward where they are given large amounts of laudanum  by one Doktor Random and in the wavvvvy symbiotic  ether-state realize their mutual origins.  They soon recover, write the first edition of this book published in 1939 titled ‘A Very Short History of Bumblepuss’ which is an odd mixture of recipes, tales of the occult, and reoccurring character named SteamGoat Billy. They then join the Army Rangers Psy-Trance Unit and spend the war torturing Germans with Dropkick Murphy covers and pre-electronic Progressive House re-mixes.

Torture

1950 – The first edition of ‘A Very Short History of Bumblepuss’ sells poorly but develops a cult following in America, Canada and other less important parts of the world.  The early Bumble devotees are so dedicated that an international meeting is held in Cleveland, OH and people actually show up. Bumblepuss and it’s adherents festers in leaps and starts like a slow growing skin disease on the nice to look at bits of the female body.  Many Bumblepussies as they are now known attend Burning Man which starts happening regularly every three or four years at spots around the globe.

1951-1976
Soup is nowhere to be found and gives wildly varying accounts of his movements in his 1996 autobiography ‘I’m on a Boat’, turns up in Perris, CA speaking French and looking like a bald, fat Marlin Brando with a Messiah complex; proceeds to start Weight Watchers.

Marc moves to Lowell, MA where he spends most of the 60s and early 70s watching repeats of The Wonder Years on BlueRay and wondering where those years are exactly.

Now on BlueRay!

The Sixties!
During these years in the wilderness for the two prestidigitatoresque Bumble founders Ilia and Allie take care of the day to day governance of Bumble Nation.  Traveling the United States in a magic yellow bus with a group of Bumblers and selling education books door to door made out of blotter paper they spawn 1000s of Love Children and future Bumblers in the lower 48 and the province of Alberta.

Bumblepuss First Art Car

1976 – Soup, Marc Allie & Ilia meet up at a Bob’s BigBoy in Burbank and decide over a Decadent Hot Fudge Cake and a side of Onion Rings the time is right to re-unite the Bumble diaspora in a mass ceremony to take place in Korea.  Several diners and two short order cooks The Buffer and Quayle overhear the conversation and go on to play leading roles in the development of Modern Bumblepuss as well as discovering solar power and radium.

Bumblepuss Reunites! Onion Rings!

1986 -  Soup meets Scott, an early HBGB Healer, at a ski convention in Aspen.  Scott shares tantric secrets with Soup.  Soup decides Scott doesn’t have enough ‘O’s but too many ‘T’s in his name and thus he becomes Scooter.  Both men witness Massimiliano Blardone conquer Beaver Creek and decide they are horrible skiers and soon leave the industry.  Nectar Village is formed.

1989 – Soup and Marc are put on trial for their part in attempting to turn the East German Stasi into an Amway distributorship – the Berlin Wall falls soon afterwards.

Next – Part Two – from Galvanized Corpses to Steambath and Epiphany’s First Date.

Editors Note: ‘A Brief History of Burning Man’  is a short historical novella that will be published on this site in serial form over the next several weeks leading up to the Burn of 2011.

Introduction by The Cubitron

Up and down.  Sideways. Left to Right then cascade like Atari’s logo motherfuckers.   Now real fast Diagonal.  Up again. Then over. Then back to the center then DOUBLE DIAGONAL! One in purple changing to white the other red turning into wait for it, wait for it OMG OMG Orange!  Such a lovely orange.  No breaks for you – I keep going all night.  256 color VGA monitor colors zooming all over as you lay on the ground next to your friends and hopeful lays – pupils dilated like it’s 1999 and DanceSafe just turned your pill black.  You don’t mind laying on your back on the hard cold playa looking up all in my admittedly colorful junk? That’s cool.  All I ask is that those hippies stop beating their drums for just like 10 minutes man- drink some water man – talk about it, drink some more water, eat some of that cous cous in your Camelback – plus your drumming is getting all wiped out by those Electro Techno Disco beats flying out those big speakers attached to the Unimog. Drums beat in mass usually the center of aural attention at most events but not here – relegated as a distance thudding though only 30 feet over to the right where you think you left your bike.

Some people tell me stories as they lay under me.  This one fellow told me fantastical stories of BurningMan past.  Of recent excavations of Stonehenge where they found a dusty black vest with a spoon on the back of it in primitive el-wire – the first Burn he postulated and I believe quite rightly as I was there dazzling druids from way up in the sky with northern lights brought south for the solstice and Labor Day celebrations.  Dirty Druids and their drums.  He rambled on about war criminals, DPW, Peter Seeger fans and black bears until the sun started to come up and he remembered he had to cook breakfast for a lot of people. He stayed a little longer to tell the tale of the chicken korma made in a dust storm that fed hundreds even though it was only made for 60. The night turned to dawn quickly and thanking me for listening he got up – dusted off his back and we exchanged e-mails.  That’s how he got a hold of me to write this introduction which I was happy to do as I have a lot of down time here in Tahoe.

Enjoy the tales he told me and make those recipes, something I am unable to do, most involve bacon so it has to be good.  All were made in ad hoc fly by night desert kitchens often after nights and days of courageous amounts partying so it can’t be that hard on your playa dust free kitchen with your clean dishes.

Enjoy!

Yours Lovingly,
The Cubitron