“I had imagined this journey as a quest. I finished my studies in math. I wanted to live. I wanted to burn all the bridges, all the formulas, and if I got burned, that was okay, too. I wanted to be warm. I wanted the sun and I went after it.”

– Stefan

“Three days ago, at exactly 0600 – because that is really not the time – on February 5 – because that is really not the date – this freighter, which shall be nameless, sailed from a certain Far Eastern port. Its destination: The Port of Los Angeles, Wilmington, California. This is fact.”

– narrator

“Twenty-three years of living with nothing but gutter hypes and junkies!”

– Florrie Fisher

“I'm a man in search of his true self. How archetypically American can you get?”

– Eddie Jessup

A computer mouse: the first personal computer mouse debuted on this day in 1981.

“To those who think that all this sounds like science fiction, we point out that yesterday's science fiction is today's fact. The Industrial Revolution has radically altered man's environment and way of life, and it is only to be expected that as technology is increasingly applied to the human body and mind, man himself will be altered as radically as his environment and way of life have been.”

– Theodore J. Kaczynski

A Gedankenspiel.

 

Similar to the way moveable print has accelerated the spread of ideas, the personal computer mouse accelerated the speed of which individualist's ideas can spread. However, like the printing press and unlike the spoken word, the mouse can only point and enhance pre-existing notions, thus neutering any prospect of revolutionary change on an individual level.

 

In a grotesque snub to nature, the pointing finger has transcended the mouse, detaching our minds from our bodies in one infinite scroll.

Freebie: Paul Morrissey born (1938 – 2024)

“Just because people throw it out and don't have any use for it, doesn't mean it's garbage.”

– Holly

“She's still crazy about him. He's still crazy.”

“Nur ein leichtfertig Knechtlein, dem es gleichgültig war, regne oder sonnenscheine es in der Ernte, wenn nur das Jahr umging und der Lohn kam und zu jeder Essenszeit das Essen auf den Tisch, griff zum Löffel und berichtete Christine, daß noch keine Buche gepflanzet sei und alles gehe, als ob sie verhext wären.”

– Jeremias Gotthelf, Die schwarze Spinne (1842)

It's December 6, 1969 and just like that, the 60s were over. It started out great, the West Coast edition of Woodstock. Santana, Jefferson Airplane, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, a 300.000 strong crowd and, of course, The Rolling Stones on the final leg of their US tour. And, of course too, Hells Angels armed with motorcycle chains, sawed-off pool cues and $500 worth of beer, hired to stop fans from climbing the stage. And not in the least due to its proximity to Frisco, lots of bad drugs mixing with that crowd.

“Well, The Rolling Stones tour of the United States is over. It wounded up with a free concert at the Altamont Speedway for more than 300,000 people. There were four births, four deaths and an awful lot of scuffles reported.”

– Stefan Ponek, KSN Radio

Even before a single note had come out of Mick's mouth, someone had punched him in the head. More scuffles, Grace Slick begs the audience to keep their bodies off each other unless they intend love. The Grateful Dead, regular deployers of peaceful Angels security, wisely forfeit their performance. The Stones open their set, the final set of the day. By then, the Angels are far into their $500 beer bounty, and the audience far out of their mind. Meredith Hunter, high on drugs, had brought a gun. And the Angels did what they were ordered to: stop anyone from getting close.