Adventures of The Crimson Bat

I recently finished reading Adam Gorightly's The Prankster And The Conspiracy , a biography of Kerry Thornley. The name Kerry Thornley probably does not ring a bell, which is a shame. He is the most fascinating American historical figure you have never heard of.  He was friends at different times with both Lee Harvey Oswald and sci-fi author Robert Anton Wilson (as well as having a very very brief dalliance with actress Grace Zabriskie.) His friendship with Oswald (during his time in the Marines) led to his being investigated by Jim Garrison, as well as being a witness before the Warren Commission.

In addition to these relationships, Thornley made his own mark by helping found Discordianism in a bowling alley in the late 50's. I was going to say "the religion of Discordianism", but I'm not sure that's right. As the book points out, some say that it is an elaborate joke disguised as a religion, whereas others say it is a religion disguised as an elaborate joke.

The conspiracy in the title refers to the alleged conspiracy to assassinate JFK. As mentioned before, Thornley knew Lee Harvey Oswald in the marines and wrote a novel with a main character patterned after him, long before the assassination. He also wrote a biography of Oswald after the assassination. This brought him to the attention of both the Warren Commission and New Orleans prosecutor Jim Garrison (later made famous in the Oliver Stone film  JFK.)

Author Gorightly leans towards a belief that the assassination was a conspiracy, but he does not flatter Jim Garrison at all. It's refreshing to read a work by someone unquestionably on the left who is also willing to smash leftist idols. The reader is first introduced to Garrison  in a chapter entitled "Tales Of The Jolly Green Giant", those last words being a popular nickname for Garrison. The first thing we learn about Garrison is a very flimsy perjury case he had planned to bring against a man named John Heindel, who was also in the marines with Oswald. When the case fell apart, he turned his sights on Thornley, claiming he had lied about being seen with Oswald in New Orleans.
Later Garrison would try to make a case that Thornley  had worked as a double for Oswald in the conspiracy. Garrison's prosecutorial mania turned Thornley, a man who made Abby Hoffman look like an accountant for Haliburton, into a villain for many on the  left. Assassination researcher David Lifton has written a scathing account of Garrison's treatment of Thornley, which can be read here.

Thornley became increasingly delusional, eventually believing that he actually had been an Oswald double, in spite of the lack of evidence. He became more and more paranoid about his friends, including Robert Anton Wilson, whom he believed was a CIA operative. (In fairness, Gorightly points out that many people shared this delusion.)  Gorightly suggests many possible reasons for Thornley's mental breakdown, including his LSD use, and possible genetic causes. I think Garrison's incessant badgering could have brought about his particular delusions of being an Oswald double.

"The Prankster And The Conspiracy" is not quite as depressing as I'm making it sound. As the other half of the title suggests, Thornley loved a good prank. When he was in the marines, he and some buddies invented a fictional soldier named Omar Khayamm Ravenurst (a name that he would later take as his discordian pseudonym). He once passed out fliers urging people to boycott a gun amnesty at the 1994 Superbowl, and not bring their illegal guns in exchange for tickets. There was no gun amnesty.

Thornley reminds me a little of the characters in Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum, who invented elaborate conspiracies, only to find the line between real and fabricated conspiracies was a little fuzzier than they thought. But there are differences between Foucault's Pendulum and Thornley's biography. The former is fictional, and a lot more tedious than the latter. I'll take Gorightly's work over Eco's anytime...it's a hell of a lot more entertaining, and makes it's points about reality and conspiracies much more elegantly.

Even though this is a relatively long review for a fairly short (<300 pages) book, there are a lot of things in the book I haven't even touched on, such as Thornley's politics (he went from marxist to objectivist to anarchist), and some speculation about what the real story behind the Kennedy assassination might be (including some pretty damning info about E. Howard Hunt.) You'll have to read the book for all the juicy details. It's worth finding and purchasing..

I went to Aunt Mima's funeral today. My brother and sister came to town and we all rode together, which was nice. I didn't expect to see them again so soon after Christmas.

I saw about a zillion cousins I hadn't seen in ages, including my cousin Tricia , who lives in England and is working for BAFTA. We had a nice little chat about films in general and Bill Forsyth films (such as Local Hero and Comfort And Joy) in particular. It  was good to see Tricia, and of course it's always good to connect with another Bill Forsyth fan. :)

Before the service, all the family was gathered in a room, and some logistic matters were explained. The preacher said at the end of the service the family was going to face the congregation as everyone sang "Blessed Be The Tie That Binds". Then he went on to say "we're only going to sing the first verse. I don't know the second verse myself." I liked that. I thought it was a good illustration of a positive effect Christianity has on someone...having the humility to admit something like that in front of a large crowd. (ADD interlude...I wonder how many people are familiar with that song because of an Aqua Teen Hunger Force episode.)

He gave a nice eulogy. He told some amusing stories about her life, including one about a little brother who gave her the name "Mima" because he couldn't say Miriam. I was particularly amused by this story because the little brother was my father.  And you just have to love the southern tradition of small children renaming their older siblings, even if it does give rise to the "Bubba" stereotype. I also found out that she went to something at her church called "Christian Endeavor" which my father mispronounced as "Christian In Devil." Pop was such a hoot.

He talked about her daughter Pat, who was mentally challenged. Apparently Mima was told that Pat would never be able to learn anything, but Mima insisted she would. She did a good job at that. Pat learned to read a bit, and she had quite a talent for jigsaw puzzles. She was able to put one together in a sitting. I wasn't always impressed by that, but I was thinking about the kind of jigsaw puzzles they have for kids.
After I tried my hand at a few jigsaw puzzles for grownups (which was the kind Pat did), I decided Pat had unquestionable savant skills. After the service, Mima's daughter told me Pat actually read to her some after her eyes went bad. Wow. Mima  was a good teacher.

After the service we went to cousindoc's house, where there was a lot of food. My brother gave a command performance on the piano. He performed "Linus And Lucy" and some blues tunes. cousindoc brought out his trumpet and played along, one of mima's grandchildren brought out a toy drum set, and I improvised some blues vocals, mostly involving a woman leaving me and going to New Orleans (although I once changed it up  and had her go to Baton Rouge)Then we had a big singalong of "When The Saints Go Marching In" , a song that was also played at my father's funeral. My cousin Mary said "there's just too much time between the times we do things like this."
I said to her "too much time between? when have we ever done anything like THIS?". Family singalongs in the past have tended to  be limited to singing "Joy To The World" before Christmas dinner.

So the day ended on a rather jubilant note, something I'm sure Mima would have appreciated as much as she appreciated the tears at her funeral. Goodbye Mima, and thanks for all the scalloped oysters. *yum*

I spent New Years Eve by myself. On New Years day, I walked down to the coffee shop as I usually do. When I got there, I discovered I didn't have the book I was going to read in my backpack. Then I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. When I called it back, I discovered it was a message from my cousin Mary telling me that one of my aunts had died (for regular readers of this journal, it was cousindoc's mom, not Mary's.)

Damn what a New Years Day. I called my cousin back later to talk to her.She told me about some of the things she had been going through and they were bad. Listening to what she's been through helped give me some perspective, something I desperately needed that day.Her daughter died at the age of 35 a few years ago, and now Mary is raising her teenage daughter (the father is dead too.) Mary is on a first name basis with the shit fairy.

It was good to talk to her though, because it made me ask myself  "what exactly were my piddly little problems again?". That's always a healthy question to ask yourself. Especially on those days, when you need a little perspective. And it was good for other reasons. I hadn't talked to her in forever. All through the conversation, I kept thinking that I was spending that time in the best way it could possibly be spent. Another healthy thing, and one I don't experience very often. I don't know why I was thinking that. Maybe because she needed someone to talk to, maybe because it's just good to touch base with family. I guess it doesn't really matter why.

I haven't said much about the aunt that died. She was 92 years old, and really did live a very good life. The saddest thing about it is that she was the last of her brothers and sisters (including my father) to die. It's sad when a generation has completely passed.

She was a good cook and an excellent hostess. For many years we had Thanksgiving dinner at her house on the night before Thanksgiving.
The normal bodily excretion when thinking about the recently departed is tears, but not in this case. I am salivating a bit as I think about the delicious scalloped oysters I enjoyed at her house. I may have gained a couple of pounds just from thinking about them.

My favorite memory of her is on my tenth birthday. I usually didn't get a present from her, but for some reason I happened to be with her that day ( I don't  remember why.) We were in a department store, and told me she wanted to buy me a present and for me to pick something out. I went to the record section and got The Rolling Stones Let It Bleed.

That's a happy and vivid  memory. Happy  because she was thinking of me, and vivid  because it links together Aunt Mima and the Rolling Stones...a rather unforgettable conflation. This is a woman born in 1917 in a small southern town. She was very far from being one of those annoyingly proper southern women, but on the other hand I can't see her at Altamont.

Or maybe I CAN see her at Altamont. Maybe, through a combination of scolding and promises of her scalloped oysters  as a reward, she could have gotten those Hells Angels to behave themselves.

I'm embedding a video of Gimme Shelter from the Let It Bleed album.For good or ill, I think it's always going to make me remember Aunt Mima.

I know, it's been almost a week, and I haven't had to work, so this should have been posted by now. I have managed to be busy with other things, such as catching up on time with real life friends.

I spent Christmas day with my siblings and my sister-in-laws family (I call them ILORS, for In-laws once removed), as usual. It was as enjoyable as always. I must confess I got more cool stuff than I gave. My brother, sister, and sister-in-law all got gift cards. And I got my neice and nephew gift cards, which I had never done before. My niece Andi is 11 years old now and has finally reached the age where she's difficult to buy for. I know not to get her anything too little girl-ish (like Hello Kitty stuff) but beyond that I'm clueless. I talked to her mom and she suggested I just get her and her brother gift cards. So with her blessing, I did.

I wrapped them up in boxes with some stocking stuffers and bubble wrap (nothing more fun than having bubble wrap to play with.) Since my siblings and sister-in-law are grown-ups, they got theirs in envelopes. I got my sister-in-laws parents actual presents.

It was great seeing everyone. My niece Andi is as sweet and beautiful as ever. And I never fail to vicariously enjoy my nephew Barney being a little boy. He brought along the GREAT BIG cap gun he got for Christmas. It was about 4 feet long, more of a cap rifle. He'd also gotten a coon skin cap, ala Davy Crockett. He cut quite a figure. With his long hair, he looked like a cross between Daniel Boone and Buffalo Bill. Only shorter.

Anyway, I got some really cool presents. My sister-in-laws parents got me  Forgotten Founder,Drunken Prophet, a biography of Luther Martin. My sister got me The Prankster And The Conspiracy, a biography of Kerry Thornley, as well as You're Gonna Miss Me, a documentary DVD about Roky Erickson of the 13th Floor Elevators. My brother got me the DVD Bound To Lose, a documentary about the Holy Modal Rounders. These weren't all the presents I got (everybody was incredibly generous) but it's a nice cross section. Its lots of biographical material about great American wierdos, my equivalent of a Red Ryder BB Gun with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time. Four of them, actually.

I had a wardrobe malfunction while I was there. I split my pants on the side of the leg. It was small at first, but a couple of times it got caught on a drawer handle and got bigger. I looked like an aging gay porn star, but nobody seemed to mind.

I was invited to spend the night. Part of me wanted to go home and change pants, but I thought it would be good to spend more time with the family, and besides my heat wasn't working at home (which probably deserves another post.) And I was told it wouldn't disturb anybody if I watched the DVD's I got. So I stayed. I snuggled up on the couch and watched You're Gonna Miss Me. Nothing like a documentary about a mentally ill 60's rock star to fill you with Christmas spirit!

It was a great Christmas. There were lots of things that made it great, but probably the best part is knowing I have a family I can feel comfortable around even when my pants are split almost all the way down my left leg. (Hmmm...Ugly Pants party, anyone?)