In 2004, my son and I met Arlo Guthrie on a sidewalk in Tacoma, Washington. He autographed my lucky two-dollar bill, the one my Uncle Jeff Weiss (the eminent coin collector) awarded me in 1983 as an afikomen prize.

I explained to him that Random’s fourth-grade history project was on Woodie Guthrie. Arlo offered this, “My dad was a really cool guy.”

Before he stepped into the venue, and even thought he had only known me for a few seconds, he called back, “seems like yours is a cool guy too.”

Alice’s Restaurant is my earliest spoken word inspiration. I first performed it at Hirdstock when I was eighteen, the same age Arlo Guthrie was when he got arrested for littering.

In this tribute, I took liberties with grammar fixes, slightly dissimilar backgrounds, and my own vocal intonation. The result is a darker saga, but I believe the times call for this.

You can listen here on Substack, but it’s also available wherever you get podcasts by searching the phrase: Olympia Radio Company.

In this episode, Dr. Roger Sty Bantam takes on his critics, and fights back.

In this episode, Dr. Roger Sty Bantam gets real.


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Artwork by Arrington de Dionyso.

Music by Oleg Byonic and Faith No More.

Script loosely based on the angry meltdown Allen Silberhartz had when asked if he was aware that a growing segment of The Bridging Heaven and Earth audience thought his show was a work of satire.

https://www.encyclopedia.com/science/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/silberhartz-allen-1947

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I’ve been told that there’s an increasing number of you who listen to this program ironically. You think this is a work of satire. You consider me deep in a character. I’ve been told that you are now the majority of my audience.

This is unfortunate. It’s unfortunate because you’re wrong. You’re all very, very wrong.

I’m not doing this to make anyone laugh. I do this because I believe in the power of our work, work that is singular, not a multi-layered work of comedy.

So, to those of you who say that this is a parody of mystical healing, or a commentary on New Age therapies, I’m going to tell you something.

You’re wrong.

I’ve had it with your allegations.

THIS PROGRAM IS NOT A JOKE.

And, if you dare say that this program is a joke, I will give you one chance to surrender that perspective, re-join this community, and take your place submissive to The God Tiger.

If you can’t take this direction, if you continue to question me, you’re missing the point, you’re missing an opportunity to heal.

If you continue to act out and broadcast conspiracies about me, it’s beyond unfortunate, you’re ruining the experience for others. I will not allow you to do this, and if you continue, I will be forced to take drastic action.

This program is not a joke. This program is the singular bright power opening the forbidden wilderness of deep discovery. I’m not about to let a few clowns dismantle everything I’ve built.

Let me break it down for you. All jokes, all comedy, all so-called “funny funniness” is and has always been an over-champagning of the unholy, an expression of deep-seeded je vaunt. The functional material of humor is a rash befountment ejaculated by troubled pseudo-people caught in the glue of reticulation. Comedians are stunning on a brick sundae, but perpetuating the poison of original sin, the corruption caused by Eve, the woman, the evil woman who tempted Adam with an apple.

To those of you who have been tempted, I invite you, I implore you, come back. Don’t follow comedians, they’re lost, comedians have lost their connection to The God Tiger, lost their souls to the infection of a satanic greying, a sickness rooted in the weakness of puerility, and stringer.

I was concerned that saying that would only give credence to the naysayers. That’s why I hadn’t spoken up sooner. I didn’t want to add an ounce of liquid to their idiotic river, their crackling cackles of witchy mishigas. These barking dogs are more than unsettling, they’re the epitome of evility. I’m ready now. I’m ready to fight. I’m ready to fight with my words. I’m ready to stick a finger in to this whole, claptrap, all of it.

I’m ready to clean the air with clear air. Here's some clear air: The world is sick. This audience is sick. You are sick. I am the cure. I’m not your jester. I’m your doctor. I offer the medicine to a galactic illness that is plaquing the universe. Take my hand. It’s time for your total mental surrender.

The piece I recorded today isn't one I wrote, but it conveys my thoughts on the subject of lost love, and it has nostalgic significance.

First, my thoughts. When we lose someone we love, a possession, an old t-shirt, a paper boat, a chair, can help maintain a place in our minds where that love continues, where we can still feel it. That place is dusk, neither day or night. In the city, in the fast-paced world, it’s not easy to even perceive the actual dusk, let alone have space for an emotional one.

I’m forever grateful for this story that weaves together a tale of a lost love with how difficult it can be to feel that loss in the modern rat race.

As for the nostalgia, as a teenager I listened to the weirdest radio I could find, and nothing was stranger than the multi-layered experimental audio collages played late at night on WFUV. That’s where I first heard 2NU. Ponderous was their big hit, but my favorite will always be Frank’s Chair. When I first heard it, I thought, this is exactly the kind of thing I want to make. All these years later, it's nice to cover the track that started it all for me.

This cover is an homage to my mentors Michael Nealy and Jock Blaney who wrote and originally recorded Frank’s Chair in 1990. Thanks guys for helping me find my voice.

Here’s yours sent back from mine.


---David


MUSIC CREDITS: Shinrin-Yoku by Sensitize, Billions and Billions by Stellardrone, Inside Out Flower by Kicking Giant, "Ég heyrði allt án þess að hlusta" (A Winged Victory For The Sullen Rework) by Jóhann Jóhannsson, Like a River Runs by Sia (a cover of the song originally written/recorded by Bleachers).