IIRC, that was Scylla. And its balderdash, sir, tommyrot. Been there, done that, sold the Berkeley Barb on Telegraph Avenue. That would be '67, '68, before the underground newspapers found the hidden goldmine of “personal” ads. Once the scent of money was in the air, the underground paper was doomed. Now, the alternative press is restaurant reviews for people who can afford restaraunts, the latest on that saucy merlot from Australia. Yuppie news for yuppie scum. That was a looong time ago.
The original Cecilians were, and largely remain, fact geeks. You see them at the book store, poring over the remainder table. They pretend they are mulling over that book of essays comparing Wittgenstien’s alcohol capacity to Schlegel: was he just as shloshed, or less so?
But they are really focused on trash, 1001 Little Known and Utterly Insignificant Facts. They can’t help it. OK, OK, we can’t help it! We are the people who cannot play Trivial Pursuit, we always win, we always gloat, and everybody hates us. We are intellectual pack-rats, scurrying about for shiny bits of useless truth. We talk ourselves into buying that book, maybe as a joke gift for Uncle Fred, but we know it will end up in our bathrooms until we have absorbed every bit of trivia in it. We also know that we already know half the stuff in there, the products of life long addiction.
We are not the damned, we are the darned, and it is bad enough. I was a Cecilian when the internet was the information super-highway (..hmmm, adjust handshake and CRC to neutral, reset baud rate, and I can get into the local library…) I bought the first one and began pestering bookstore employees for another fix. When? When, goddamit, when?!!
If anything, I was leftier then than now, but that’s only because of progress creep, the notions I had that were radical are now liberal. But the fact geek is a junkie, not an idealogue, if the only place to get my Cecil hit was the WSJ, I would have hung around the lobbies of banks, pretending I had some business there. Eugene V. Debs forgive me, I would have bought the stinking rag, had I no other choice.
I am a fact geek. A Cecilian. An intellectual rag-picker. One day I wondered, perhaps, does this Cecil guy have an online location? Cue the harps and the angelic chorus, hallelujah! Mom, I’m home, these are my people!
The personality defect we are afflicted with has fuck-all to do with politics.