FORGET the war in vietnam. Flowers are lovely. FORGET America's 3300 military bases. Make music. FORGET Wichita Vortex Sutra. Words are stronger than flesh. FORGET planned war with China. Beauty is Carnaby Street. FORGET the Dominican Republic. Todo Todo Hassan Sabbah. FORGET police Brutality. The cops are your friends. FORGET upheaval in negro ghettos. Spades ain't hip. FORGET the Rumford Act. Show love. FORGET the National Guard. Positively Fourth Street. FORGET inmates on deathrow. It's a long time passing. FORGET hypocracy of business. The merchants are your friends. FORGET U.S. billion dollar investment in South Africa. Money is. FORGET HUELGA DiGiorgio. We all live in a yellow submarine. FORGET organized crime. Eternity is long and, sometimes, wide. FORGET HUAC. The sun's not yellow, it's chicken. FORGET concentration camps for subversives. It's a bummer. FORGET FSM, VDC, SDS, SNCC, MARK COMFORT. Big Brother and the Holding Co. FORGET Mime Troupe, Lenny Bruce, The Beard. Strobe lights are groovy. You're free to forget. So forget! Follow the calm business tactics of the Psychedelic Shop, the I and Thou, and all other marketeers of expanded consciousness (Moe's Bookstore is important, really!) and dig yourself. Touch reality only for sex, only to eat, and only to join the Artist's Liberation Front for your own safety. Afterall, expanded consciousness is a selfish hippy kissing the system's ass for the greater glory of the lonely dropout, isn't that right, Uncle Tim! THE D I G G E R S .

the PUBLIC parks — here you can pitch a tent anytime. PUBLIC streets on riot with truckloads of arms protecting the private property of super-charging merchants. the PUBLIC beaches — here you can paddy-cake any old time. PUBLIC streets where fantasy laws justify the concepts of LOITERING & VAGRANCY. the PUBLIC schools — here you can be conditioned to PUBLIC opinion in order to express yourself in the PUBLIC consensus. PUBLIC streets where agents patrol, undercovered in 'hip' costumes. the PUBLIC transport system — here drivers black and white riders for free. PUBLIC streets where parking meters tick off legality. the PUBLIC hospitals — here you can born, healed, passed away away. PUBLIC streets where exhausting autos pollute the air and mutilate the people. the PUBLIC housing developments — here you can live a life now done. PUBLIC streets where lonliness crowds silent, up-tight sidewalks. the PUBLIC officers — here is the understanding of PUBLIC service. Where in the street can two fingers touch Where in the street can you get out of neighborhoods Where in the street can you escape the economic net Where in the street can you trip out your door and smile at sincere Where in the street can you hitch a hike down the block Where in the street can you take off your shoes and sing and dance without disturbing the death called peace in voice THE D I G G E R S demand an ERECTION! THE BALLING BOWL a FREE PUBLIC structure in the panhandle where individuals can swim in vinyl pools filled with vaseline, WAIL LOVE to downcast brows, and carry-on as much as they want until they think it beautiful to stop. THE D I G G E R S fully understand that the cost of erection can be added to the PUBLIC debt and especially appreciate Captain Kiely's generous offer of men and machines to quicken the rise of the ERECTION and give meaning to its eventual climax. UP THE BALLING BOWL! THE D I G G E R S .

You're born a citizen of a nation. A citizen of a nation with rulers who legislate rules commanding you to be free. Free to be conditioned in school until you're sixteen. Free to be a compulsory soldier. Free to pay sixty percent of your taxes to the military budget. Free to get legally married. Free to work for a minimum wage. Free to vote when you're twenty-one. Free to vote for the democratic or republican party of your choice. Free to buy clothes, food, and property from the 200 corporations which account for 45% of the total U.S. manufacturing in 1966. Free to obey arbitrary curfews. Free to have your freedom regulated by officers who are your friends and who protect you. PROTECT you from obscenity. PROTECT you from loitering. PROTECT you from nudity. PROTECT you from sedition and subversion. PROTECT you from marijauna, LSD, DURGS. [sic] PROTECT you from gambling. PROTECT you from homosexuality. PROTECT you from statutory rape. PROTECT you from common-law marriage. PROTECT you from abortion. PROTECT you from lonely you. PROTECT you from demonstrations against your protectors. So, don't worry about surface reality. Afterall, Terrance O'Flaherty in today's Chronicle, says you're the average fool on the street and have no right to speak for yourself. So trust society. Trust the specialists. And trust the merchants, especially the associates of the Psychedelic Shop, the Artists Liberation Front, and the I/Thou. They have a dialogue with the protectors, who cordially greeted you 8:15 Thursday night, for your own safety and their own private property. Police are your friends. But don't by all means, don't ask George Metevsky [sic] — his answer would be a medley of incoherent shouts of fury. THE D I G G E R S .

there are no more negroes, jews, christians. there is only one minority in America. and we ask: When will BOB DYLAN quit working on Maggie's Farm? When will RALPH GLEASON realize he is riding in a Hearst? When will TIMOTHY LEARY stand on a streetcorner waiting for no one? When will the JEFFERSON AIRPLANE and all ROCK-GROUPS quit trying to make it and LOVE? When will NORMAN MAILER fill his brooklyn town house with presses and feed words to a day-tight night-tight generation? When will OSWLEY STANLEY expose the traffic of alkaline acid and pour his background into LSD-25? When will the NEW LEFT RADICAL POLITICOS stop laying down limp and liberate the consumer? When will PABLO PICASSO take the seven thousand paintings he has in storage and give them away with a smile? When will KEN KESEY swallow the ocean and take us all to Yucatan? When will MICHAEL BOWEN and friends use, look through, but not package the expansion of human consciousness? When will ALLEN GINZBURG be blessed by his own seed and golden hairy nakedness? When will ART-FOR-ART'S-SAKE climb higher than the social responsibility of the civilized past? When will they all hear the death of LENNY BRUCE?

and so, i suffered from an awful frenzy of collapsed assumptions. Regardless, I tried to pick my nose on the handlebars of willowed macaroons as they tripped towards the vestibule of Tracy's funeral parlor and danced in the middle of the ice block where Super Spade directed jellied traffic to the high way of chewed Bazooka bubble gum and fat city dog kennels. Needless to say, REVOLUTION NOW -- now spinning -- now now -- invisible -- now floating -- somewhere -- outthere -- waiting to grind someone's brain. Someone questioning Something without getting Somewhere and Somehow losing inner rest while revolution g o e s spinning -- floating -- outthere -- somewhere -- waiting to grind someone's brain. Never-The-Less, Walter Slezax pumped the pomegranite until the concrete swill of crisp clear delusions squeezed the galaxies between the corniced web of my purple laughing cheeks. but i did tell the personnel manager and his shirt and tie and parted hair that i would accept three dollars an hour for fifty forty hour five day weeks and fully appreciate the overwhelming opportunity to do what i wanted to get done on all those fast backed saturdays, sundays, legal holidays and two-week vacations where all those wide-haired nipples suck the fun life.

in the early 1960s, Timothy Leary was clinical psychologist at Harvard University. In 1963 he was fired from Harvard for giving psychedelics to undergraduate students. In response to this concern, Senator Thomas Dodd convened Senate subcommittee hearings to try to better understand the drug-use phenomenon, eventually with the intention of "stamping out" such usage by criminalizing it. Leary was one of several expert witnesses called to testify at these hearings. In his testimony, Leary said, "the challenge of the psychedelic chemicals is not just how to control them, but how to use them."[82] He implored the subcommittee not to criminalize psychedelic drug use, which he felt would only serve to exponentially increase its usage among America's youth while removing the safeguards that controlled "set and setting" provided. When subcommittee member Ted Kennedy asked Leary whether LSD usage was "extremely dangerous", Leary replied, "Sir, the motorcar is dangerous if used improperly...Human stupidity and ignorance is the only danger human beings face in this world." To conclude his testimony, Leary suggested that legislation be enacted that would require LSD users to be adults who were competently trained and licensed, so that such individuals could use LSD "for serious purposes, such as spiritual growth, pursuit of knowledge, or their own personal development. He argued that without such licensing, the U.S. would face "another era of prohibition."[85] Leary's testimony proved ineffective; on October 6, 1966, just months after the subcommittee hearings, LSD was banned in California, and by October 1968, it was banned nationwide by the Staggers-Dodd Bill.On September 19, 1966, Leary reorganized the IFIF/Castalia Foundation under the name the League for Spiritual Discovery, a religion with LSD as its holy sacrament, in part as an unsuccessful attempt to maintain legal status for the use of LSD and other psychedelics for the religion's adherents, based on a "freedom of religion" argument. Leary incorporated the League for Spiritual Discovery as a religious organization in New York State, and its dogma was based on Leary's mantra: "drop out, turn on, tune in".

Addressed to Carol Tinker, 250 Scott S.F. Postmarked May 4, 1966.Festival of Nations on the Panhandle Coordinating meeting, Status presentation of the A-2 Redevelopment project, “Educational Goals for Ghetto Schools” will be the topic discussed by Berkeley School Superintendent, SNCC Report, HANC endorses Prop B bond issue for the modernization and expansion of the Muni Railway.Laid in letter form Carol Tinker inviting people to participate in a Festival of Peoples to be held on October 30, 1966, in the Panhandle from 11 A. M. to 4 P. M.

You're born a citizen of a nation. A citizen of a nation with rulers who legislate rules commanding you to be free. Free to be conditioned in school until you're sixteen. Free to be a compulsory soldier. Free to pay sixty percent of your taxes to the military budget. Free to get legally married. Free to work for a minimum wage. Free to vote when you're twenty-one. Free to vote for the democratic or republican party of your choice. Free to buy clothes, food, and property from the 200 corporations which account for 45% of the total U.S. manufacturing in 1966. Free to obey arbitrary curfews. Free to have your freedom regulated by officers who are your friends and who protect you. PROTECT you from obscenity. PROTECT you from loitering. PROTECT you from nudity. PROTECT you from sedition and subversion. PROTECT you from marijauna, LSD, DURGS. [sic] PROTECT you from gambling. PROTECT you from homosexuality. PROTECT you from statutory rape. PROTECT you from common-law marriage. PROTECT you from abortion. PROTECT you from lonely you. PROTECT you from demonstrations against your protectors. So, don't worry about surface reality. Afterall, Terrance O'Flaherty in today's Chronicle, says you're the average fool on the street and have no right to speak for yourself. So trust society. Trust the specialists. And trust the merchants, especially the associates of the Psychedelic Shop, the Artists Liberation Front, and the I/Thou. They have a dialogue with the protectors, who cordially greeted you 8:15 Thursday night, for your own safety and their own private property. Police are your friends. But don't by all means, don't ask George Metevsky [sic] — his answer would be a medley of incoherent shouts of fury. THE D I G G E R S .