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More words from Rob:

Images are Dangerous

How I Got Started in the Horoscope Writing Business

Chapter 1

Welcome to the Televisionary Oracle

Coming to you on location from your repressed memory of paradise

Reminding you that you can have anything you want if you'll just ask for it in an unselfish tone of voice

Programmed to prevent the global genocide of the imagination

Hi, beauty and truth fans, and welcome to The Most Secret Spectacle on Earth, brought to you by the Menstrual Temple of the Funky Grail, Beauty and Truth, Inc., and Twenty-Two Minutes of World Orgasm.

We're your hosts with the Holy Ghost grins, and we're proud to announce that this is a perfect moment. This is a perfect moment because you, my beloved friends and teachers, have taken the first step in a ritual which could lead to the end of your amnesia.

At this perfect moment you have somehow managed, by fabulous accident or blind luck or ingenious tricks, to tune in to the Televisionary Oracle -- proving that you're ready to recover your repressed memories of your sublime origins, and know again the Thirteen Perfect Secrets from Before the Beginning of Time.

Welcome to the end of your nightmares! The world is young, your soul is free, and a naked celebrity is dying to talk to you about your most intimate secrets right now!

Just kidding. In actuality, the world is young, your soul is free, and at any moment you'll begin to feel horny for salamanders, clouds, toasters, oak trees -- and even the ocean itself!

Whoever you think you are, whatever friendly monsters you've tried to make into your gods and goddesses, whatever media viruses you might have invited into your most private sanctuaries-you can decide right now that your turning point has arrived. You can decide that you're ready to change your lives ... and change your signs ... and change your changing. Because when you tuned in the Televisionary Oracle, you tuned into your own purified, glorified, unified, and mystifying self.

We're your hosts for it all, beauty and truth fans. Your MCs for the Televisionary Oracle. Your listeners and your protectors and the sacred janitors we hope you've always wanted.

Does it matter what we call ourselves? You can refer to us any way you want. Your Sweet Fairy Godparents. Your Spirit Guides or Extraterrestrial Midwives or Personal Diplomatic Representatives to the Queen of Heaven.

Do you remember your dream of the saintly anarchists burning heaven to the ground? That was real. That was us. We can't in good conscience tolerate institutions that kill people with love.

Do you remember your dream, from the night before your seventh birthday, of the janitors with the pet vultures taking the garbage out from under your bed? That was real. That was us. We own all trash everywhere, after all. We were just ministering to what's ours.

We're inside your shadow, beauty and truth fans, helping you use your terror to become rich and famous -- if that's what you want.

We're percolating up from the ground beneath you, bringing you the Gnostic African Buddhist music of the ever-growing roots -- if that's what you want.

Like a tick in the navel of the seven-headed, ten-horned beast of the apocalypse, we're even riding on the underbelly of tonight's satellite transmission from CNN, MTV, UFO, and CIA, broadcasting to you on location from wherever we happen to be at the moment -- if that's what you want.

We're all around you -- if that's what you want -- or nowhere to be seen -- a secret keeping itself, like nature -- if that's what you want.

So. What do you want, anyway?

The Televisionary Oracle is brought to you by the ten-thousand-year-old lupine seed that Yukon miners found in frozen silt and turned over to scientists who planted it and grew a perfectly healthy bush.

Read Chapter 2

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