Q.: I hate to argue about truth or dare but your systemic strife for infame is a psychotic impulse. It turns
Gina a furious gal. Your chief exhortation should be to beguile potential sponsors. Yet you prefer to
scare them all away in stead. A venomous snake will easier infiltrate the Garden than you a marginal
community. You are full of pomp but no charm whatsoever. Your plastic bomb won’t impress
professional anarchists.
A.: I am offering a brilliant audiophonic concept to the campus radio. An alternative to the alternatives. It
could release an airborne virus of contagious intelligence. They should feel lucky to catch it before the
competition.
Q.: Maybe they can see through your shabby disguises. You are so transparent you could wear a swastika.
Why should they like to disseminate a leery virus? Then look at the facts of your subreality. Number one:
Who are you? Nobody knows. Number two: Your proposition out of the blue is lower in fidelity than an
emergency broadcast. The ethical incorrectness it advocates is more controversial than Satanist
proselytism. All in all it is sheer propaganda with various soundscapes. Your argument about betraying
one’s bloody roots won’t come down well with the ethnic minorities. Sharon said she wouldn’t touch
it with a prong.
A.: I’ve tried my very best to be convincing. Even elucidated the necessity of a counterrevolution. I overtly
declared that I’m an immoralist and that’s what I want to teach. It wasn’t sheer transparency but an
attack in the nude.
Q.: Congratulations, lone grey wolf. The rejection was predictable and unanimous. From a committee of
of fourteen feminists. All united to condemn the proposal you submitted for the contest. Your truism
didn’t prove you a good liar. Only made you more ambiguous. You have a suicidal tendency. You
comported your shady self like the dogmatic cheer leader of an imaginary team. Lecturing liberal
Atheists about militant Antichristianity. It was conceited and inauthentic. A lunatic-asylum seeker
couldn’t have done it worse.
A.: I was an intruder trying to sell the enemy its antipode. Manipulation wasn’t an option. I would have lost
the game anyway. At least I didn’t make no compromise. Can stand untarnished before the Author.
Q.: Don’t lie to me at least. You’d make any compromise if you were the clever swindler you’d like to be.
You simply cannot and it is your defect, not a virtue. To promote insincerity in an unconvincing
manner is imbecility ad absurdum. Why don’t you just apply for a normal DJ post. Could later
transform it whatever you wanted from within.
A.: I wanted to be clear about it. I don’t like to inoculate the system. I want to take it with a gun like an
outlaw. I am living out my intellectual fantasy.
Q.: You cannot be right if you consequently lose. Your message is an error that should never have been
sent in the first place. But the way you convey it is plainly anomalous. Offense creates defense in a
direct ratio. Don’t you know the basic law of sociopsychology?
A.: I know a lot more than necessary. But can’t get rid of it. I am a spectre dying to come alive. A lot like
Gilgamesh in the end.
Q.: You are an uneducated dilettante, Spiel! No match to a student body. Sometimes I don’t know what
are you thinking. Whether you’re joking or just an idiotic dummy. You label yourself a professor of
mendacity but when it comes to your interests you keep nothing back. All you really want is to be
rejected. So you don’t have to do the thing whatever it is. That’s not the spy who couldn’t lie. That’s
the real leper messiah.
A.: I do not have a strategy, Gina. Nor am I guided by voices. All I have is my bad instincts to obey. I’m a
catholic misfit by premature rebirth. Blind passenger of the slowest train. The rock that cannot roll. An
unfollowable example of nothing.
Q.: Very impressive analogies from a dead horse’s mouth. One couldn’t tell confession from elegy. You’d
better save your ruined reputation. You owe a letter of apology to the Board. You called them cowardly
bureaucrats for not taking a chance with you. That’s not an elegant acceptance of defeat.
A.: I called them “like.” “Like cowardly bureaucrats of the mainstream.” It was confrontative and very
well understood. I’d do anything for survival but won’t ever apologize. I spoke my mind, so what. First
they called me a provocateur.
Q.: You certainly are the world’s most hopeless case, lupus in fabula. A saloon-refugee amongst illegal
aliens. By your falsified curriculum you are expected to rival the Pope for world domination but you’re
in fact a destitute emigrant with no relatives or friends. A homeless bum without past exiled beyond the
horizon. A total stranger at the college party. Behaving like fallen to Earth yesterday. A lofty jerk.
A.: I wish I had but I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m living on the edge of sanity. An incompetent traitor
waiting for a cause. I never belonged to the blank generation. It was just a lie.
Q.: A desperate outsider you are, trying to carve his niche with tooth and nail. The saddest clown of the
infernal circus.
A.: I’m in a Torschluss-panic, baby, at the bottom of the pit. Can’t even remember how I got here. Must
have been fallen. I’d need supernatural faculties to ever reach the minimum wage. But have never lost
my renegade control. The initial destination’s always on my mind.
Q.: You still could have done it better if so wanted. In place of a manic agitator you could have appeared as
a humble artist before the natural-born dissenters. Not like an outdated anarchomystic. Fishing with a
spear like ancient mariners. Why you had to bring up The Party in a pragmatic confrontation?
Socialism with a superhuman face!? You plain precluded any impossible sympathy.
A.: I am a hiatus to fill. On the receiving end of the line. All I need is to be needed. It’s not my dodge to
courtship the system.
Q.: I cannot tell future but one thing I do know. There will be no wedding feast if you keep on acting like
that. You should have been modest like a mouse to convince the programming committee about
their gain of airing a lying course. How it would enhance their diversity profile. In stead of banging
your tin drum in the face of the adversary. You were like a neurotic knight out of a Monty Python
sketch. Here I am, the Unexpected. Give me a forum and I’ll tweak the frequency. Let me in because I
want to destroy your house. It was more of a blackmail than a plea. Your usual genre of communication.
A.: I have explained my agenda very accurately. I was pleading for a collaboration that’d benefit everyone.
Q.: You were commanding and demanding simultaneously. Vulnerable like an encircled boar. That you
are a self-conscious hypocrite is written all over your aura. You don’t have to repeat it in words all the
time. There you are an unknown aging white male asking for support to an outlandish project of
demoralizing the youth. And that from slim careerists and lesbian witches. Cool operation, Major 888.
You would deserve a badge of honor.
A.: It was like a political hearing. We two visitors on culprit’s chairs facing the judges behind the table.
Only a portrait of Stalin was missing. My life is a bad movie. Always the same, no matter where and
when. And can’t change the script.
Q.: You acted like a tone-deaf troubadour from Hell. Sweating profusely, shaking all over. Justifiable but
really ridiculous. Wrong gender, wrong orientation, wrong color. A rulebreaker from outer space.
Your perfume smelled like a rat. Besides, you could be their granddaddy by the biological clock you
cannot adjust. No fat chance, sweet Dracula.
A.: I am an arrested fugitive held up by the circumstances. Struggling wit an aggressive-depressive
temperament. Suffering the grim consequences of an imaginary Putsch-attempt. This radio-play has
been another trial of reintegration. A backdoor confidential.
Q.: Another problem of yours is the grave lack of fantasy. ‘Lying Course’ is your pet project since 1982 in
various avatars. What in the world obsesses you with it?
A.: ‘The Lying Course’ is a double-hoax. An obscurantist Meisterschaft. It provides an armoured cruiser
to pirate the waters of verity. An inexhaustible framework to blow the people’s mind.
Q.: If that’s what you want, that’s what you won’t get. The freedom to navigate. You won’t be permitted
to any harbor, red captain. Stay floating on the endless sea forever.
A.: Despite the renunciation, I feel better now. It’s good to have hate concretized. Instant recharge of the
exhausted batteries. The ‘Lying Course’ is not a lost cause as yet. It might come back in another
format. Actually everything I’m doing is part of nothing else. That’s what 888 stands for in the practice.
The son of lies.
Q.: Don’t overestimate the formula because you’ll mix it all up. You’ve been deceiving me all the long way
down with your broken tongue. You said you were a friend of the Prince of Gravity. Exempt of the laws
of the Sun. That you’ll bring the world’s most beautiful women under the Flagjm. That we shall build a
Building of Departure on a remote island. You promised you’ll defeat the Devil in a Blitz on our first
date. That’s why I fell in love with you. But it was all slander. You brazenly abused my underage
naivety. Is that the way you want to seduce the people too, groom of doom?
A.: I didn’t need a wife. I needed a provider and a witness. I must be the devil. I enslaved you but at least
made you equal. You had a completely fair share of the humiliation at the hearing. You stood by me
like a loyal dog ready to bite. Without you I couldn’t have stood the test.
Q.: Can’t you face that you didn’t? You fucked it all up big time and for good. Because you cannot break
your chains. They fit you so well, you don’t want to lose them. I’m only the shadow of a ghost in this
cringeworthy drama. The supportive girlfriend he could mesmerize.
A.: Don’t take it literally, please. Responsibility is an unbearable burden. At least that one I do not have to
have. I hadn’t deceived you on purpose. I believed every word I was saying. Mescalito was my steady
diet then. Now I’m clean and a lot wiser. My ambition has reduced to a benevolent slot on a community
radio of the town of my serendipitous exile. But even this proved too much. I don’t deserve nothing.
Do you trust me now?
Q.: From youthful folly to mature dementia. Quite a pathetic arch without a grain of profit ever earned
throughout. A never-been cannot make a comeback, my dear fraudulence. Don’t forget who you are.
A.: I don’t care any more. I admit everything I’ve missed out on but don’t regret nothing.
Q.: Yes you do. Just afraid of the consequences. Lie is all you can do. Skipping the school of amelioration,
you have remained a disqualified delinquent of the arts. Persisting on my tiny income like no tomorrow.
A helluva marriage of convenience, innit?
A.: The Word of None is speechless and out of order. Sentenced to silence without parole.
Q.: Don’t exacerbate the catastrophe. What you’ve done to me is unforgiveable. Just take a closer look at us.
What we have become in the vacuity of vain hopes. Here comes the last couple of the horror show.
An elderly nutcase and his silly mate talking common nonsense. Not a pretty picture of the exhibition.
A.: Don’t look in that mirror. Our private life has nothing to do with the project.
Q.: That’s where you are mistaken. We do not have private life. Anything we do, we do it for something
else. Every breathe we take is to testify. We’re fighting mischievous forces but we’re fighting
together. We are nothing of an ordinary couple. We might be dead but our drama’s living on.
A.: I’m glad we have reached a consensus thereof. You know, this transmission could beat the Howard
Stern show if well done. It could make us popular and renown. Extensible for cable TV later.
Q.: Curb your enthusiasm, little brother, it’s over. You couldn’t overcome the smallest obstacle. Can’t
break out of the confines of the myth. The ultimate canard claiming for the crown of the Lamb.
Begging for a spot in the light. You don’t care much about an audience, do you? You don’t want to
teach no one, just steal some attention. You’re a liar and a thief. Too much to handle for nonconformists.
A.: ‘The Lying Course’ would have been a musical pageant half of its time. Each episode regularly
interrupted by a playlist cued up and promoted in advance. Its automatic correspondence with the
improvised dialogue will guarantee the emission’s mystic zest. That much I have learned about
coincidence in the seclusion. Magic’s all around you if you are in focus. I can tell the secret and
keep it too. The truth is for sale. And you’d better buy some before it all runs out.
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