Michael Prescott's Blog

Apropos of nothing ...

In honor of Halloween, some paranormal books I'd like to see ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Halloween! 

 

Ripping it up, part two

In a recent post I discussed the much-hyped news that the identity of Jack the Ripper had finally been revealed via DNA analysis of an old shawl purportedly found at one of the murder scenes. I also discussed objections raised by so-called "ripperologists" – dedicated aficionados of the unsolved Ripper murders, who have learned to be skeptical about such revelations.

Since then, I've had the opportunity to read the book that started all the commotion, Naming Jack the Ripper, by Russell Edwards. The book clears up a number of things, but it also raises more questions, leaving the story as yet unresolved.

Those who are interested in getting into the controversy in depth are advised to check out this ever-growing thread at the website Casebook.org, dedicated to ripperology. At last count, the thread had grown to more than 4,200 comments, all pertaining to Edwards' claims and possible counterarguments. Naturally I can't cover all that detailed material here. What I'd like to do is focus on two specific facts, one of which may help substantiate Edwards' theory, and another that may cause problems for it.

One of the biggest obstacles to the acceptance of Edwards' ideas is the provenance of the shawl itself. Did it actually come from one of the Ripper crime scenes? Ripper experts have expressed doubt because no such item was reported by the police. In his book, Edwards includes a list of all items found on the person of Ripper victim Catherine Eddowes, the woman who is said to have been found with the shawl. No shawl is mentioned. But he then adds a quote from "a press report in the East London Observer," which said: "Her dress was made of green chintz, the pattern consisting of Michaelmas daisies." He adds that other periodicals repeated this detail.

The disputed shawl, which is about eight feet long, has a pattern of Michaelmas daisies. Now, a shawl is not a dress. But in the confusion and darkness of the crime scene, when the police were doing their best to keep onlookers back, it's at least possible that a reporter glimpsed the shawl covering part of Eddowes' body and mistook it for a dress. If it was indeed the same item, then its absence from the official list would indicate that it disappeared somewhere between the crime scene and the mortuary.

According to family lore associated with the shawl, Acting Sgt. Amos Simpson of the Metropolitan Police Department was allowed to take the shawl with him to give to his wife, a dressmaker. When I first heard this, I was extremely skeptical that the police would be so lax in their procedures as to allow a potentially vital piece of evidence to be carried off. But one of the commenters at the Casebook site made the point that in those days, the clothing of murder victims was routinely burned; after all, given the primitive forensic techniques of the day, there was no way to extract any useful evidence from such items. If this is true – and it sounds right – then it is conceivable that the police did allow this rather valuable piece of fabric to be salvaged rather than burned. The shawl was of good quality, stained with an expensive dye apparently made from natural materials. It's easy to think that someone would prefer to see it in the hands of a dressmaker than simply consigned to the furnace. It's also not impossible that Sgt. Simpson's wife, upon receiving the shawl, declared that she wanted nothing to do with the gory, bloodstained garment.

Crucial to Edwards' case is the idea that the shawl was not laundered in all the years that it remained in the family's possession. How plausible is this? As it turns out, it's quite believable. The primitive blue dye used on the shawl would have bled and washed away if it became wet. Accordingly, the only way to clean the shawl was to beat it like a rug and air it out. It would not have been washed — indeed, it could not have been washed, because if it had been, the dye (still very much visible) would have come off. Apparently it was never cleaned at all, just stuffed away in a storage container — a lucky break, inasmuch as it retained DNA that would otherwise have been lost.

So far, so good. There are other issues involving the provenance of the shawl, such as Simpson's presence at the crime scene that night when his normal jurisdiction was miles away. Edwards suggests possible scenarios that seem reasonably plausible to me, but which strike many of the Casebook people as unpersuasive. I'm not going to go into all that.

What I do want to cover is the biggest potential problem with Edwards' case that I've come across so far. It involves the mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) analysis performed on the bloodstains visible on the shawl. Edwards reports excitedly (he has a tendency to get a bit worked up) that a segment of mtDNA from the blood matched that of a matrolineal descendant of Catherine Eddowes, and that it

had a sequence of variation which gave a match with the mtDNA of [Eddowes' descendant] Karen Miller only and did not match any of the other control samples. The variation is known as a Global Private Mutation, a rare gene variation that is usually found only in a single family or a small population. According to the database of the Institute of Legal Medicine and based on the latest information available, the variation that both Karen's DNA and the DNA from the bloodstains on the shawl shared has a frequency estimate of only 0.000003506, in other words, it is present in only 1 in 290,000 of the world's population.

To put the genetic variation discovery into context, it means that as the United Kingdom currently has a population of around 63,750,000, Karen Miller is one of only around 223 people in the country who possesses this genetic variation. If that ratio was the same back in 1888, when the UK population would have stood at about 36,000,000, Catherine Eddowes, whose blood (also containing that variation) appears to be on the shawl, would have been only one of about 136 people in the country with that variation. [pp. 203, 204; italics in original]

He goes on to estimate that Eddowes would have been one of no more than a dozen people in London to fit this profile at the time.

This is strong stuff. If indeed the blood on the shawl can be narrowed down to only twelve people, one of whom is a known Ripper victim, it would be pretty conclusive evidence that the shawl was originally found on or with her body, however it ultimately came to be removed.

But the devil is in the details. The DNA expert who conducted these tests wrote his own report, in which he stated

One of these amplified mtDNA segments had a sequence variation which gave a match between one of the shawl samples and Karen Miller's DNA only; i.e. the DNA sequence retrieved from the shawl did not match with control reference sequences. This DNA alteration is known as global private mutation (314.1C) and it is not very common in worldwide population, as it has frequency estimate of 0.000003506, i.e. approximately 1/290,000. [p. 205]

But here's the thing. A couple of the dedicated ripperologists on Casebook looked into mutation 314.1C and found that it seems to be merely a variant nomenclature for mutation 315.1C — and 315.1C is not uncommon at all. Far from being a rare mutation confined to a relative handful of people, 315.1C is distributed throughout 99.2% of the population!

As the online investigator who tracked down this discrepancy wrote,

It appears that something has gone badly wrong with the analysis here, and obviously the quoted figure of 1 in 290,000 can't be accepted without further explanation.

As of now, that's where the matter stands. If 314.1C really is identical to 315.1C in all but name, and if 315.1C is common to nearly all of us, then the "global private mutation" does not narrow the field at all, and the claimed identification of the sample with Eddowes is on much shakier ground (though at least she is not ruled out).

There are other questions pertaining to the analysis of skin cells purportedly matching the Ripper suspect, Aaron Kosminski, but for me, the 314.1C thing is the biggest issue right now. It is hard to believe that a distinguished DNA expert could make a mistake so elementary that non-experts could catch it simply by Googling the relevant term. On the other hand, there seems to be no getting around the fact that 314.1C and 315.1C are one and the same sequence.

Until this is cleared up, the status of Edwards' ballyhooed "discovery" remains in doubt. And old Red Jack continues to mock us all ...

And hey, if you've read this far, you may be interested enough in the Ripper to read my novel about a modern-day connection to the case:

From the file drawer: Reversalism

One of my favorite online scribblings is this extended satire on Ayn Rand and Objectivism, posted at my author site. I've put it up on my blog before, but somehow I felt it was time to rerun it yet again. 

Admittedly, much of the humor derives from in-jokes. For instance, we are told that one of Reversalism's acolytes received an honorary degree from Martin and Lewis College. Getting this joke requires knowledge of two facts, both fairly obscure: 1) that one of the few academic awards Rand received was an honorary doctorate from the little-known Lewis and Clark College in Oregon; and 2) that Martin and Lewis were a slapstick comedy team in the 1950s (Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis).

Though it is a very broad satire, the piece fooled at least one reader, who emailed me to ask if Cassandra Prune was a real person and went on to lament her "sad life."

People who enjoy this kind of thing might also like Ellis Weiner's cruelly effective satirical novella Atlas Slugged AGAIN, available at Smashwords.com. 

 

Reversalism: A Philosophy for Living It Up

As longtime readers of my Web site know, I've occasionally written essays critical of the late author and philosopher Ayn Rand. But I don't want to give the impression that Rand is the only major American philosopher whose work I've studied. Another one, less well-known but with her share of influence, is considered below.

She was born Melissa Lebensraum in Innsbruck, Austria, in 1915, but emigrated to the United States at the age of eighteen and shortly thereafter adopted the name Cassandra Prune -- Cassandra, after the prophetess in Greek mythology, and Prune, after a packaged snack food she was enjoying at the time. In 1942 she married Elbert Periwinkle, an unemployed grifter and soda jerk, but for the rest of her life she was known professionally by the name Prune or, as her followers deferentially insisted, "Miss Prune."

Melissa Lebensraum, age ten. She was known as a dour child. (Photo courtesy The Cassandra Prune Institute; reproduced with permission)

Though she spent her first decade in America working as a lap dancer in a Vegas showroom, Prune's ambitions were considerably loftier. She intended to be a writer, and not just any writer, but the greatest writer of all time, with the possible exception of Nora Roberts. Her literary efforts were at first undistinguished, consisting of unfinished short stories and grocery shopping lists, and her submissions met with little success, even when accompanied by threatening messages and letter bombs. Her early diaries, posthumously published, show all too clearly the toll that this difficult period took on her:

How I long to rid myself of this execrable so-called "human" filth that congeals in the streets and alleys of this pestilent world - how easy it would be (and how right! and how proper!) to take a blowtorch and burn their witless faces off their skulls or tread them underfoot with spike-heeled shoes or simply commandeer a Gatling gun and march into a subway station at rush hour and pump the lousy God-damned worthless subhuman abysmal commuter bastards full of lead! And no one could blame me for it, either! Not one person!

Finally, in 1952 she achieved success with her first novel Taken for Granite, the story of an uncompromising young stonecutter who finds love, betrayal, and redemption in the big city of Minneapolis (where Prune and Periwinkle had relocated following their marriage). Critics have been divided ever since on the literary merits of Taken for Granite, but all agree that the novel's considerable commercial success was attributable to the famous "spanking" scene, in which stonecutting hero Norman Basehart invades the boudoir of uppity millionaire heiress Lola Frigidaire and teaches her a painful but erotic lesson:

His hand smacked again and again on her firm buttocks, leaving the imprint of his long elegant fingers on her creamy yielding flesh. She cried out in pain, but it was a cry not of dismay but of desire, and with every "No!" he heard "Yes!" and hearing this, he smiled as he continued to mete out the punishment she required. He was laughing ...

This was heady stuff for 1952, and legions of young, emotionally repressed and sexually twisted adolescents gravitated to the book. Girls in particular had their heads turned by the stoic, hard-spanking Basehart. It has been said that for much of the 1950s it was almost impossible for a young man to get a date unless he was employed in masonry. More prudish readers objected to the scene's violent overtones, an objection Prune wittily dismissed in the question-and-answer period of a public lecture: "If it was a spanking, it was a spanking by engraved invitation -- and I have a similar invitation available for anyone in the audience, male or female, between the ages of eighteen and fifty-five." The audience laughed heartily at what they took as a jest, although at the end of the evening engraved invitations actually were passed out.

Reversalist protest march, c. 1954; signs read "Rubella Vaccine = Communist Plot" and "Rubella - Yes! Vaccine - No!" (Photo from the archives of the Minneapolis Handy-Dandy Shopping News)

The book remained on best-seller lists for three years and was made into a 1956 movie starring Claude Raines as Norman Basehart and Jennifer Jones as Lola Frigidaire. Prune wrote the screenplay herself, after an unprecedented agreement with Universal Studios that insured that not one single word or even typo of her screenplay would be changed. Unfortunately, Prune was a haphazard typist, a fact that resulted in some awkward dialogue exchanges.

BASEHART

I can't love you, Lola. You're in love with dearth.

LOLA

It's not dearth I love, Basehart. It's lifting. I want to lift!

The climax of the film is an extended soliloquy by Norman Basehart as he faces a firing squad for the crime of mowing down a crowd of commuters in a subway station with a Gatling gun. In his impassioned 37-minute monologue Basehart defends the right of every man to kill pretty much anybody who rubs him the wrong way. The firing squad, moved by his statement, tearfully shoots him full of holes. The film was a commercial flop but can still be seen on very late-night TV in the programming slots normally reserved for infomercials.

Claude Rains as Norman Basehart, with Gloria Stuart as spurned lover Vestal Virgin, in Universal Studio's mega-flop Taken for Granite (1956).

 Despite the publishing success of Taken for Granite, Prune remained dissatisfied. Her intentions had now moved beyond literature to the founding of an entirely new philosophy of life which she called Reversalism, because it was based on the premise that "the truth is the exact reverse of everything you believe." She had decided, she said, to challenge the 4000-year-old moral tradition embodied in the Ten Commandments. "God says thou shalt not kill?" Prune writes in a 1958 leaflet distributed on windshields throughout the Twin Cities. "Reversalism says thou shalt! God says thou shalt not covet? Reversalism says covet all you like! Traditional morality is a philosophy of self-denial, which means: a philosophy of self-abnegation, which means: a philosophy of self-destruction, which means: a philosophy of death, which means: a philosophy of not being alive. Against this age-old primordial cult, Reversalism proudly offers itself as a philosophy for living it up." (emphasis in original)

In a 1960 interview with Modern Bride magazine, Prune was asked to summarize her philosophy while hopping on one foot. Smiling, Prune calmly raised one leg, hopped twice, and booted the interviewer in the groin. (In technical terms, this was an "ostensive definition" of Reversalism.) It was the only summary of her views she ever offered, and people were understandably reluctant to ask her again.

Accused by critics of fomenting a rearguard action, Prune defiantly replied that sometimes backsliding was the best form of progress. "In our battle," she wrote, "we man the backside of the barricades, advancing with every retreat. As your general, I ask you to join me at the front -- that is, the rear!"

Well-attended Reversalist rally in downtown Minneapolis, on August 13, 1970. Prune is speaking on the dais. Dr. Linwood Spleen stands on Prune's right. (Photo courtesy The Cassandra Prune Institute; reproduced with permission)

 Her fans took up the battle cry in growing numbers. One of these enthusiasts was the young Arnold Schlotzsky, who first met Prune in 1958 during a "personal audience" at her Minneapolis split level. Schlotzsky, with his formidable intellect, coolly logical demeanor, and heroic buttocks, soon became a favorite visitor at the Prune-Periwinkle home, especially when Elbert Periwinkle was out pursuing his newfound passion for gardening or, in the winter, building snowmen with corncob pipes and funny hats. Impressed with Prune's fictional heroes, Schlotzsky soon changed his name to the more rugged "Arnoldo Purenson." It was later noted that the name Purenson is an anagram of Prune and son. Was Schlotzsky slyly suggesting that Miss Prune was in fact his intellectual mother or, as she would prefer, his father? The question remains unanswered.

Purenson became one of the first in a series of ardent admirers who made the long trek to Minneapolis to become part of the Reversalist movement. The young fans were known collectively by their formal name The Acolytes, though among themselves they referred to the group more humorously as "The Jerk Squad." Only years later would some disaffected followers realize how accurate this latter designation had been.

In 1975, after years of heroic procrastination, Prune completed her magnum opus, the 8,046 page epic novel Prometheus Burped. The Acolytes were convinced that the book would sweep the country and ignite a philosophical revolution that would convert all of America to Reversalist thinking in a matter of hours, if not minutes. Prune herself was less sanguine, arguing that a complete remaking of American society could be expected to take much longer, perhaps even a month. But even Prune was unprepared for the barrage of critical hostility unleashed against Prometheus Burped. A Newsweek reviewer wrote acidly, "I wouldn't wipe my butt with this sludge," while Time magazine observed, "Yeah right, like anyone's gonna read 8,046 pages." Perhaps Prune's greatest disappointment was that no prominent intellectuals spoke up in defense of the book, although Art Linkletter did send her a postcard saying he'd read the first chapter and thought it was "pretty okay so far, but you can't quote me on that." Prune kept the postcard and in later years said that it may have saved her sanity during this difficult time.

 Despite the book's formidable length and the fact that it consists of the same five scenes repeated over and over with the exact same dialogue, only with the characters wearing different clothes, Prometheus Burped became a surprise bestseller. Again, Prune's ability to weld complex philosophical issues to steamy sexual content undoubtedly played a role in the novel's popularity. A word count by prominent Prune critic Jeff Hatcher (included in his exposé The Wacko Nut Cult of Cassandra Prune and Her Crazy Wacko Nut Job Ass-Kissing Followers) lists 879 uses of the word buttocks in the novel, 326 uses of the word ass, and 17,321 uses of the term rear end -- although Hatcher cautions that in some of those cases rear end refers to the rear end of a train. (Conversely, the term caboose is not invariably used in a locomotive context.)

Prometheus Burped created a demand for more information about Prune's innovative philosophy. Arnoldo Purenson was quick to oblige, creating the Arnoldo Purenson Institute for Advanced Intellectual Masturbation, which operated out of his powder room. At first tens, then dozens, then scores of eager young "disciples of Reversalism" flocked to Minneapolis to attend lectures given by Purenson, his wife Beatrice, and their trained macaw Bernie. Occasionally, Cassandra Prune herself would condescend to attend the question-and-answer periods. She cut a dramatic figure on stage, wearing her stylish 1930s pageboy 'do, clad in her trademark Eskimo parka, and holding aloft her gilded riding crop.

In 1981, a noted film producer, fresh from his dazzling success with the international hit movie Debbie Does Dallas, held a press conference at Bob's Big Boy on Sawtelle Avenue in West L.A. and announced plans to make a seven-hour theatrical film version of Prometheus Burped. Unfortunately these plans were scotched the very next day, when Prune insisted on not only directing the film but playing all the major roles. Prune was to spend the rest of her life fruitlessly seeking the financing necessary to bring her novel to the big screen, or at least turn it into a four-color comic book.

It was at this point that Prune, depressed over the failure of her ideas to appeal to anyone old enough to drive, embarked on a controversial three-way personal relationship with Arnoldo Purenson and her pet dalmation, Rex. The unconventional menage a trois disturbed her husband, mainly because he was not included. Elbert Periwinkle took to spending a lot of time in his room and, in Beatrice Purenson's muckraking 2005 biography The Colossal Bitchiness of Cassandra Prune, was even said to have become an early user of crack cocaine. This claim, however, is fiercely disputed by Prune's partisans. The executor of Prune's estate, Dr. Linwood Spleen, responding to allegations that Periwinkle's room was found cluttered with coke spoons, has explained that Periwinkle actually used the spoons for "mixing tea."

Rex. Photo taken in 1982, shortly after the commencement of his menage a trois with Cassandra Prune and Arnoldo Purenson. (Author's private collection)

 Spleen was a comparatively late arrival to Prune's inner circle, but his dogged sycophancy quickly made him a fixture in the movement. He became known as the intellectual leader of the Acolytes, inasmuch as he was the only one of them who had actually finished college. (He obtained a bachelor's degree in Philosophy, with a minor in Home Economics, from the University of Saskatchewan. He later received an honorary doctorate from Martin and Lewis College.) His book The Horrendous Similarities, originally intended for publication in 1972 as a protest against the McGovern presidential campaign, was slightly delayed by Prune's insistence on revisions, and eventually saw print in 2004. Prune, in her foreword to the book, praised Spleen as "the foremost intellectual figure in the world today other than myself and Nora Roberts" and said that the 120-page monograph was "destined to reshape, or I should say reverse, all the intellectual trends of today's debased culture, and then some." The book sold 372 copies, most of them purchased by the Cassandra Prune Institute under the direction of its chairman, Linwood Spleen. Used (but frequently unread) copies of The Horrendous Similarities can still found on eBay in the "intellectual claptrap" section.

During her lifetime, Prune did not allow anyone other than members of her increasingly limited inner circle to refer to himself as a Reversalist. Instead, those interested in the philosophy were ordered to adopt the term "disciples of Reversalism," although the alternative designation "Reversalist brown-nosers" was also permitted. The movement swiftly grew throughout the 1980s in the go-go Reagan years, its numbers enlarged by the publication of several collections of Prune's nonfiction essays in book form. In The Antebellum South: The Forgotten Ideal (1982), Prune argued that America below the Mason-Dixon line during the plantation era had been a paradise for both slave owners and the slaves themselves. The idea that slaves had suffered during this period was a distortion of history, she argued, foisted on an unsuspecting public by "Marxist historians, leftist propagandists, and subhuman quasi-Neanderthal pseudo-intellectuals with flabby sagging buttocks." Prune laid particular emphasis on the custom of whipping errant slaves, which she proved was not an act of abuse, or if it was, "it was abuse by engraved invitation."

Other Prune titles of the period include The Virtue of Self-Righteousness (1987), in which Prune argues that dogmatic insistence on one's position regardless of evidence is the essence of morality, and Hippies and God: America's Twin Menace (1992), a challenging look at the folk music scene, with particular emphasis on the metaphysical contradictions of John Denver.

Although Prune always insisted that politics would be the last phase of American culture to reflect Reversalist dogma, ironically it was in politics that her burgeoning movement may have made its most lasting impact. A small but determined band of Reversalist infiltrators managed to insert a plank into the Reform Party platform of 1996 attacking the civil rights movement, hippies, and the rubella vaccine. The Reversalist position is even said to have exerted some influence on top advisers to Ross Perot, or at least on some people who met Perot once at a barbecue and say they shook his hand.

Image from Prune's disastrous appearance on The Jerry Springer Show (Oct. 26, 1997), which ended in a riot. The episode aired only once. (Photo courtesy Jerry Springer/Upchuck Productions)

By the late '90s Prune was largely alone. Elbert Periwinkle had died in a fire started when one of his tea-mixing sessions went tragically awry. Following a romantic misunderstanding involving a branding iron, Arnoldo Purenson had split with Prune to start his own 1-900 telephone sex service in Tampa. His ex-wife Beatrice, expelled from Reversalism for questioning Prune's choice of underarm deodorant, was at work on an unflattering biography of the movement's leader. Most of the other members of the inner circle either had drifted away or had been "purged" in a series of "show trials" held in Prune's rec room. A few were beheaded. Even Prune's beloved dalmatian, Rex, had succumbed to unspecified rectal injuries. Only Dr. Linwood Spleen remained at Prune's side.

Reversalist rally, late 1990s. The falloff in attendance from the earlier "glory days" can be clearly seen. (Photo courtesy of Beatrice Purenson; reproduced without permission)

 These last years were difficult ones for Cassandra Prune. She was once observed staring moodily out the window on a winter day and whispering, "Holy shit, did I ever fuck up my life or what?" Her only solace came from rereading her own novels, flipping through the well-worn pages, lingering particularly over the steamy sex scenes. In her later nonfiction essays she became prone to quoting from her fiction, often inserting long X-rated passages from her novels into articles on trade policy and border control.

Late in life, Elbert Periwinkle discovered a passion for art. In his chosen medium of Magic Marker he produced dozens of works, including "Sunrise Over My House" (above). Periwinkle's paintings are sold as limited-edition lithographs by the Second Rendezvous Bookshop, a subsidiary of The Cassandra Prune Institute.

 In her final years Prune's health deteriorated, possibly in consequence of her lifelong habits of smoking cigarettes, consuming diet pills, eating broken glass, strangling puppies, and feasting on human flesh in satanic midnight rituals. Eventually she was confined to her bed. Though her body was immobilized, her mind was reportedly as sharp as ever, and she spent her final months working on TV Guide's weekly crossword puzzles, completing most of them.

After a series of hospitalizations and surgeries for liver failure, pancreatic cancer, irritable bowel syndrome, cyanide poisoning, and bubonic plague, Prune finally expired in December of 2004, ironically on Christmas Eve, only hours before the dawn of the holiday she had once described as "an orgy of bloody subhuman self-abnegation and hypocritical, malicious envy disguised in the bright red suit of a flabby-assed Santa Claus delivering sugary sweets to nasty foul-smelling street urchins who are in desperate need of a serious spanking." She was interred in a two-story pyramid topped by a stylized twenty-foot riding crop -- the symbol, as she put it, "of free rein and therefore of a free mind."

Following Prune's death, the Reversalist movement has been split by further schisms and purges as well as by Internet controversies. (The average Reversalist spends a minimum of 17 hours a day online, and even more hours on days when his parents don't make him do chores.) One of the more noteworthy disputes involved a proposal made at a leading Reversalist newsgroup site that the Bush administration should drop nuclear bombs on any U.S. city that traditionally votes Democratic. The so-called "nuke Boston" thread attracted much attention. Spleen himself appeared on the top-rated Fox News Channel program The O'Reilly Factor to advocate the policy, prompting host Bill O'Reilly to blurt out, "What are you, pal, some kind of freakin' nut job?!"

By this time a certain pessimism had crept into the Reversalist movement. Spleen began insisting to Prune's longtime publisher that all future editions of her works be printed on acid-free paper, with ten percent of the printings distributed to caves and mine shafts, where they would be protected in the event of a worldwide nuclear holocaust. "My thinking," Spleen said at his annual Reversalist lecture at the Gerald R. Ford Forum in Anchorage, "is that if even one of these copies survives, it will be enough to rebuild civilization on a new, rational foundation. This will be true even if nobody actually finds the copy."

While Spleen may be pessimistic, the growing cadre of "Prune scholars" are delighted with the wealth of new details about Prune and her thinking that continue to emerge, thanks to the tireless effort of the Cassandra Prune Institute. The Institute has announced its intention to put into print every single piece of paper Prune handled in her lifetime, even ticket stubs. Posthumous publications that have already been issued or are in the works include The Diaries of Cassandra Prune, The Letters of Cassandra Prune, The Recipes of Cassandra Prune, The Doodles of Cassandra Prune, The Angry Scrawls of Cassandra Prune, and The TV Guide Crossword Puzzles Completed or Nearly Completed by Cassandra Prune.

These posthumous materials offer a fascinating window into the mind of perhaps the 20th century's greatest and most profound thinker, other than Nora Roberts. And they reveal an intellect that was forever active, never satisfied with thinking "the same old thoughts." In The Marginal Jottings of Cassandra Prune, for instance, we read Prune's spontaneous reaction to a 1992 Weekly World News article reporting that an extraterrestrial visitor has endorsed Bill Clinton for the presidency:

Those God-damned lousy triple-damned bastard extraterrestrials cannot destroy this country by overt invasion so they stoop to conquest via the political process!!! It is a perfect illustration of the epistemological self-contradiction inherent in Kierkegaard's view of Man as a subhuman cockroach who exists only by feeding on the fecal matter of cows!!!!!!! Well, now the cows are coming home to roost, brother!!!! Damn and double damn those lousy God-damned bug-eyed Martian bastards!!!!!! I'd like to commandeer a Gatling gun and march into a subway station and open fire on those God-damned alien commuter scum!!!!!!!!!!!! And no one could blame me for it, either!!! Not one person!!!!!!

Currently there seems to be a heartening resurgence of interest in Cassandra Prune and Reversalism. Hollywood producers are attempting to develop a TV miniseries based on Prometheus Burped for public access cable, and there is talk of a remake of Taken for Granite starring Jude Law and Nicole Kidman, or maybe Clay Aiken and Paris Hilton. Linwood Spleen's long-awaited book Reversalism: A Guide to the Perplexed has finally hit bookstores, offering the first comprehensive overview of Prune's radical vision. So far, however, the book has not been adopted for widespread use in university classrooms, perhaps because of the somewhat off-putting tone of Spleen's introduction, in which he writes, "All you smarty-pants college assholes can kiss my ass and go fuck yourselves, and I mean all of you!"

But perhaps we should leave the last word to Cassandra Prune herself. In her famous afterword to Prometheus Burped, Prune summed up her guiding philosophy and reinforced the convictions evident throughout her work in a single bold statement:

Nobody ever gave a damn about me, and I never gave a damn about anybody, ever. And I mean it.

Her more sympathetic apologists deny she really meant it.

Faster than a speeding bullet

I experimented with StripGenerator, a free program that lets you create simple comics online, and voila - a new comic book superhero is born! 

A cryptic post

To celebrate another year of blogging, here's a cryptic crossword with themes drawn from this blog's contents. Click on the image to see a full-size pop-up.  

When the puzzle is done, the red squares, read from left to right, line by line, will spell out a message. 

If you haven't done a cryptic crossword, here are some hints on how to solve one. 

Print out the image and the clues, and sharpen your pencil. Answers will be provided in a later post. 

CLUES

ACROSS

1. “Cry, sis,” a parishioner said unerringly to a ghost 

6. Ghost hunters study things that go this in the night

8. I feel fart developing in postmortem existence 

9. Partic. sixth sense

10. Like a blog post or a legal case

13. Mystic river

14. Stock index dictated the way

15. Lore and complicated British clairvoyant 

17. Not the end? 

19. Control lapel flower in another life

20. Sounds like Santa’s vehicle will do Buffy’s job

21. Debunking project: no beta males need apply

22. Skeptic hides in lusher meringue

DOWN

1. K.C. announced sleeping prophet

2. Skeptic Asimov is a current designation

3. Boston medium and Irish exterminator 

4. Randi’s alter ego? 

5. His pony’s possibly a path to past lives

7. Mixed-up guerilla joins E.R. without a psychic showman

10. What 7D may do to dinnerware

11. My shrew upset by “F” from psychical researcher 

12. Charles’ pie

13. Starting with D-Day there’s no place like it, and there was no one like him

14. Russell’s goal omits E.T. 

16. Addled heart on physical plane

18. Declare a toast to psychic experiment 

The Ministry of Silly Thoughts?

Greg Taylor of The Daily Grail tweeted this link today. It's a short, funny, and smart skit featuring John Cleese as a scientist seeking to explain the whole world in terms of reductionistic materialism. 

Yes, I'm on Twitter now, though so far I haven't had much to say. My Twitter identity is M_Prescott2011 .

Or should that be @M_Prescott2011 ? I don't know. It's all new to me. 

I intend to use Twitter mainly to promote my ebooks, if I can figure out how. By my count, I've sold 140,000 ebooks so far this year. When I started, I thought I'd be lucky to sell 500 a year. 

 

Trivial pursuits

A miscellany of minutiae ...

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Here's an interesting news story about identical twins who both passed away, at age 92, within a few hours of each other. 

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I've been playing around with the idea that some of the ambiguities of paranormal phenomena might be best understood as occupying borderlands between states of consciousness. Not sure if there's anything to this, but for purposes of discussion, here's a chart I worked up. (Click to enlarge.) Note that I'm not claiming there's anything scientific about this hierarchy, nor am I claiming to know exactly what level of consciousness should be assigned to particular life forms. 

 

 

As I say, I'm not sure there's any value to this, but possibly it may be a way of understanding how gradations in consciousness allow for "anomalous phenomena" on the margins (or at the transition points). The idea, such as it is, is not really worked out. 

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Speaking of charts, this chart-topping new single immortalizes the Weinergate scandal with wit, style, and aplomb. Yes, it's the whole package! Content warning, not suitable for work, may offend those who are easily offended, etc. 

Weinergate

The largest news of the past week is, of course, Weinergate. 

In all honesty, the number of column inches devoted to this story seems disproportionate to its subject. The story may be big, and it may continue to grow, but I doubt it has the potential to be huge. Even so, there is no doubt that the scandal will be hard on the congressman and his staff.

There is no need to magnify the story or extend it. The facts, laid bare, are straightforward enough. It appears that the congressman pulled a boner and was caught with his pants down. He issued a brief statement, which may have been premature and seems to have been a stretch. It appears he got overly excited and wasn't using his head. As a result, his story is encountering stiff opposition and has prompted penetrating questions from the hardened press corps, who see him as fair game for whacking. 

Though the media continue to pump the congressman, his answers have come up short. Even as reporters flog him, he has remained rigid in sticking to his story. Apparently he has decided to run it up the flagpole and see if anyone salutes, while trying to beat off all inquiries. In all of this, I can't escape the feeling that we are being jerked around by Congressman Weiner. It's almost as if he is trying to screw us.

If the congressman persists in dicking around, the situation may come to a head. He risks looking like a tool, even like a bit of a prick, as he tries to make us swallow a story that would choke a chicken. 

He needs to master the situation and not be baited into losing self-control. It doesn't help him when he goes off half-cocked. He must stand tall, straighten his spine, and do the hard work of servicing his constituents. The story may be large, but it's nothing he can't handle. He just has to grab hold of it with both hands. 

To be frank, Weiner needs to show some balls.

Do stand-up and be counted

Depressed by the recent spate of bad news - chaos in Wisconsin, civil war in Libya, hell on earth in Japan? 

Take a break with some YouTube clips of the first appearances of well-known comedians on The Tonight Show.

First up, the incomparable Steven Wright. 

Next in the queue, Jerry Seinfeld, who gets a lukewarm reception and is not invited to the couch. (A couch invite from Johnny was a sign that the comic had done especially well.)

Here's a surprisingly funny and low-key Ellen DeGeneres.  

Finally, Johnny introduces the man who will one day replace him, Jay Leno. 

Want more? Here's a montage of other comics' Tonight Show debuts.  

Feel better now? Of course you do. 

You're welcome. 

Poetry corner

I once thought of a children's book called Do You Suppose. Never really pursued it. Jotted down a few lines, nothing more. Came across these jottings the other day while cleaning out some old papers. 

Here's all I wrote of my unfinished masterpiece: 

 

Do you suppose 

That the good ship Argo

Ever reached Key Largo

Or even Fargo

To bypass an embargo

And pick up some cargo?

 

Do you suppose 

That a pilot with an overbite

Ever made an oversight

While on an overnight

Overflight?

 

Do you suppose 

That the Monster of Loch Ness

Ever played chess

In state of undress

Under duress

With a lady named Bess

Or maybe Tess

And felt true distress,

Finding himself in no less

Than a serious mess,

But refused to obsess

And chose instead to confess

His lack of success? 

 

Do you suppose

That your toes

Go to picture shows

And buy clothes

And write prose

While you doze? 

No one knows. 

 

Yeah, I know, I know - I'm not quitting my day job.