Sometimes it's just dead babies. Other times it's surreal.

This neighborhood seems to be becoming a town square for some reason. For a while, it was just abortion protesters. They bothered me, but not too much. When you work at a hospital, you can sometimes expect that.

But lately there has been an increase in the number of soapboxes.

As I was crossing the street just now, I saw a group of young men and women hanging out near a sign. It said something disparaging about Bush. Always up for a little Bush disparagement, I read on. The last line of the sign was “Vote LaRouche.” Hoo boy, I thought, this ought to be interesting. Or not. I decided to do an endrun around these people. I had work to do (which is why I’m posting here ;).)

No such luck. On LaRouchite intercepted me. I braced myself for a political screed.

LR: Hey, do you know DaVinci?
Me: Uh, not personally.
LR: What do you think he was trying to convey?
Me: Uh… Art?
LR: Exactly! Now don’t you think that’s a lot better than modern art?

I’ll save you the chore of reading the entire dialog, but let’s just say that we got into a major debate about what art is. No doubt you’ve seen similar debates on this board. And let’s just say that after a 10 minute discussion about deer pissing on canvas (don’t ask), we agreed to disagree.

LR: OK, man, talk to you later.
Me: Buh-bye.

And no, he never once mentioned LaRouche.


Sounds to me like we’ll all get the chance to hear the whole conversation on a Candid Camera-type show later this year.

Possibly, but they’ll have to bleep out the word “piss.”

Perhaps not as surreal as one might first expect. LaRouche has written at least one bombastic pamphlet in which he claims that the CCF (Congress for Cultural Freedom, not-so-charmingly labeled “Sexual Congress for Cultural Fascism” by LaRouche) is composed of communists who’re responsible for today’s dismal state of affairs (according to LaRouche) and have brought it about through their (CCF’s) influence on modern art.

Okay. I take that back. It is kinda surreal.

The above can be found here.

Oh yeah. LaRouche’s wife - Helga Zepp - is a sometimes candidate for political office in Germany and is the founder of the Schiller Institute. Zepp is also a very outspoken - and equally loony - critic of “modern art.”

That should be enough reading material to keep you up at night. Or at least haunt your fevered dreams.

Wow. Thanks for putting it in context. I guess when the guy saw that I wasn’t about to back down on the issue, he figured I wasn’t good recruiting material. Gotta give him props for his perception on that one.

And it looks like LaRouche:Art::Scientology:Ritalin.

Thanks. I’m not spending enough time in bed screaming as it is.

I’ve been doing some (very) amateur painting lately. Last week I painted a series of triangles and circles. Just doing my part to bring down all of democracy.

I had a LaRouchite accost me on BruinWalk at UCLA once. I swear she jumped out of the bushes:

LR: He’s right, you know.
Me: Uh, who?
LR: LaRouche is right.
Me: Lyndon LaRouche?
LR: Yes. He’s right.
Me: :cackles, keeps walking:

We got a contingent of them at my JC too. They didn’t last too long, but they’re always good for your daily dose of surrealism.

Oh yeah.

It seems to me that LaRouchism is not so much a political stance as a religion. And by that, I mean a cult of personality.

I have not yet adequately fathomed why Lyndon LaRouche continues to campaign for president of the United States… in Montreal.

The Nazis funded modern art? Seems unlikely, given Hitler’s expressed views on the subject - “As for the degenerate artists, I forbid them to force their so-called experiences upon the public. If they do see fields blue, they are deranged, and should go to an asylum. If they only pretend to see them blue, they are criminals, and should go to prison.” Full of opinions, that Hitler.

(From what little I remember, the approved art of the Nazi state mostly seemed to feature very large, very blond men in heroic poses and wearing nothing much in the way of clothing. Not terribly modernist, I would have thought. But what do I know?)

Oh, yeah. I remember finding a pamphlet of that dreck on my car windshield one fine morning. I gave it a ceremonial burial in the trash. They’d slaughtered innocent trees and fliered all the cars up and down my street.