Howl Protest Talking Points

 

 

1.     Ike issued a second military-industrial complex warning, about academics substituting a grant for intellectual curiosity and free inquiry.  Free speech.  If speech codes were the price of a grant, academics would pay it.  They would sell their birthright for a mess of potage.

2.     Kerouac talked about the “10,000 sneering college writing instructors” who tried to hold him down.  To keep him out.  In his book about Columbia, Vanity of Duluoz.

3.     This event is not just unseemly, it’s disgraceful.  Ginsberg is laughing.  What else can you do but make fun of it.  The enemies of freedom have won, and they get to decide who’s a winner and who’s a loser, a wanna-be, a bitter literary also-ran (BLAR).  Thar she blows.  They’re blowing New York hooey.

4.     If you say that, in your writing, and send it to New York, it’s like Upton Sinclair having to send The Jungle to the meatpackers.  There is no Inside New York Publishing, or New York Publishing Confidential.

5.     That’s what the writer must do.  The poet.  Speak truth to power.  Thorstein Veblen wrote The Higher Learning In America:  A Memorandum On the Conduct of Universities By Business Men.  I write Belles-Lettres in America:  A Memorandum on the Conduct of Publishing Companies, the Media of Mass Communication, Universities, Arts Agencies, and Foundations by Business Men.

6.     Zola wrote I Accuse.  I accuse.  Read I ACCUSE at The Daily Bulletin (www.thedailybulletin.com).  Freedom of the press belongs to the man who owns one.  I own The Daily Bulletin.  I’m my own filter, or unfilter, lack of a filter, America has a passion for the inédit.  The raw, the fresh, the new.  The unfiltered.

7.     Whenever a writer like me sneaks past the gatekeeper it creates a succès fou, or runaway success.  That happens when the pipes need a good scour.  It happened when Allen Ginsberg published Howl.  When it’s time for it to happen again it will happen.  I think it’s time.  I can feel it in the balls of my feet, the balls of my feet.  As the trapeze artist said to his deaf-mute catch-man.

8.     Needless to say, the pain was excruciating.

 


 

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