Quadrupedism

By Brother Theodore

My friends I'm here tonight to show you the way.  I'm here tonight to share a great truth with you.  I'm here to night to de-hypnotize you.  To free you from a deadly collective obsession.  I'm a voice for those who dare not speak.  I'm a cry for hearts that suffer in silence and I’m here tonight to tell you what needs to be told.  I feel an itch for public service and I've got to scratch it.    In this best of all possible worlds everything is in one hell of a mess.  Everyone knows it.  Everyone has a different explanation for it.  But all these explanations are bunk.  Not money or the lack of it, not the atom bomb, or the hydrogen bomb, or the cobalt bomb are responsible for our plight.  Not capitalism or socialism, not militarism or pacifism, not cannibalism or ventriloquism, none of these are to blame.  None of these are at fault.  They are mere symptoms.  They are mere manifestations of an evil that is deeper rooted.  The true cause of our problems and pains, the basic cause of our headaches and heartaches and torments and turmoils and calamities and crimes, the real cause has been hidden from us.  Hidden by the very men who are supposed to enlighten and protect us.  The medical profession.  I accuse medical science!  I say medical science is a fraud!  An organized system of ignorance!  I say medical science is a conspiracy, a premeditated idiocy!  Its practitioners have betrayed us.  Everyday they give us a new theory.  Today contradicts yesterday, tomorrow will wipe out today.  A torrent of trash, a Niagara of nonsense.  After 10,000 years we are still living in an age of pills and legalized butchery, of blood analysis, urine and psychoanalysis, of toenail and dandruff analysis.  An army of know-nothing, hair splitting, fee splitting specialists is at war with any army of ailments, and the ailments bloom, and the specialists prosper, and the patients die…unless kept alive at the point of a gun.   You are being murdered my friends day after day as long as you live.  Never ask for whom the grave is dug,  it's dug for you!  You are within walking distance of your grave.  But you can’t see it.  Tears shed by your left eye are blinding your right eye.  Tears shed by your right eye are blinding your left eye.  Wake up!  We are not suffering from a million or more diseases, but from one disease and from one only, the hidden disease, the original, the fundamental disease, and it cannot be cured by chemical or surgery, by skullduggery or black strap molasses.  Let the doctors examine themselves!  Let them have a good look at their own distorted two legged upright position.  They stand on their hind legs, but can they think straight?  Their spines are caving in, their livers have putrefied, their discs have slipped, their sciatica is dislocated, their noses have bulbified.  What do these learned garbage cans, these boil catchers and abominationists, these troubadours of diarrhea and constipation, what do these sinister fools, these hand picked morons, what do they know about quadrupedism?  About four leggedism?  Less then a jellyfish knows about Beethoven's 9th.    Back my friends, back I say, back to the position nature gave us in the beginning!  Down, down I say, down on all fours!  In these days of darkness and doubt, of crisis and confusion, what the world needs is a truly great soul.  I am that soul.  I am a thinker of thoughts.  I see the relationship between things that are utterly unrelated.  I am a cosmodynamic personality, walking in beauty and eternal youth on all fours.  On record covers I look like a pile of mud but that's only because photography is still in its infancy.  I am what you might call a controversial figure.  People either hate me or despise me.  They would rather shake the devil by the tail then shake me by the hand, but with every failure my reputation grows.  I speak to the misguided, to the befuddled and bepiffled ones, to those upright pillars of pain who are born in misery and die in sorrow, to those pathetic yokels who stalk about on their hind legs and call themselves masters of the earth.  I speak to you!  Wake up!    It's hard to break with tradition and give up your prejudice.  I know that, but what has walking on two legs done for you?  It has changed you into flotsam and jetsam.  It has thrown you into an orgy of self destruction.  It has made chaos the law of your life, and loneliness and despair and the imbibery of schnapps the pattern of your existence, a shadow existence, a death in life.  From womb to tomb - anguish.  From cradle to crypt - tears.  Your body, your mind, your soul, cry out for help!  You swallow another pill and say, “Shut up body, shut up mind, shut up soul.”  But they won't shut up.  Fungus, decomposed protein, scrofula, disgruntled liver bile... wriggle their way into your blood, cripple your anatomy, mutilate your metabolism, causing spaghetti deficiency and the crumbling of the T-bone, leading to overweight and adultery, opening the door to lockjaw, housemaid’s knee and compulsive uncalled for laughter.    You want health.  Do you have it?  You long for love.  Do you have it?  You yearn for peace.  Do you have it?  Your way of life has failed you time and again.  Might it not be wise to try another way?  My way, natures way?  Back my friends, back I say, back to the position nature gave us in the beginning.  Down, down I say, down on all fours and look your neighbor straight in the eye… or are you more interested in booze and a loaded dice?  In two legged beastliness and promiscuity!?  Your forefather wasn't, early man wasn't.  Early man stayed right in his cave rubbing elbows with early woman; and the average early man, the early man in the streets, walked on all fours and was proud of it.  Won't you try it?  The sublime bliss of quadrupedism.  The unspeakable joy of four leggedism.  I need fellow crusaders.  I need you my friends with your splendid intellects.  The world needs you!  Your loved ones need you!  Won't you help me help you help them?  I can't do it alone friends.  I am not the reincarnated Joan of Arc or something.  I'm just plain folks.  Oh, my brothers, my sisters, my countrymen, countrywomen, are you going to put it off until it’s too late?  Till the Russians come up with it!?  By your apathy, by your complacency, by your two legged indifference, you have made this beautiful wide, wide world an insult to creation!  You have made it the dung heap of the universe!   Let me read you an article from the Women’s Daily Digest.  It is entitled “What Has This World Come To”.  Let me read it to you verbatim my friends just as I found it bona-fide in the pornographic division of the New York pornographic library.  Here it is and I quote "A young man of good character and solid background visits a local dive, The Dirty Shame Café.  There he finds liquor and lipstick and laughter and song, also cigarette spittle and two legged entertainment.  After a while, fifteen beers under his belt, his money spent, his morals impaired, he is kicked out of the joint.  Bleary eyed, belching, spewing, cussing right and left, he gropes his way home.  ‘All right Maw, dish out the dough and make it snappy.  I've got to get back to the dancing school.  Come on old rattlesnake get going!’ And he kicked her below the belt.  His mother, a widow, poor but respectable, a lady every inch, declines.  The young man gives a short laugh.  ‘Boo, ha, ha, ha.  Boo, ha, ha, ha.’  Then he grabs a gun and he runs out again determined to reenter his hell soaked paradise, money or no money.  His mothers hobbles after him, puts her hand on his arm in restraint.  He brushes her off.  The friendly old mailman passes by.  He stops and quotes from the Bible, but the young man, frenzied by lager beer, puts a bullet through his noodle.  A couple of kids stand around watching the scene with interest.  He slays them, just like that.  Then he bumps off the washroom attendant, also a television repair man, a freemason and the dentist next door.  Heads, arms, legs, kneecaps, eyeballs, armpits, eardrums, hemorrhoids, asteroids, are rolling in all directions.  His mother swoons.  Too late.  Three hours later she is dead of leprosy….What a day."  End of article.    Now don't get me wrong friends.  Walking on all fours is not going to transform you into another person.  It will in no way change your identity, but it will help you achieve the success you so richly deserve.  It will propel you to heights undreamed of.  It will make you a race of rulers.  It will make you a breed of kings.  It will fulfill your fondest expectations.  Now what exactly does “fulfill” mean?  It means to fill full.  That's what it means in a nutshell.    Up to now your life as been a long dim twilight trance, interrupted by occasional fits of panic and confused activity.  The vital spark, the zest of life is missing.  Let me be your Dexedrine.  Let me direct you and quicken you.  Let me instruct and exalt you.  Let me pump purpose into your bloodless veins.  Hope into your hopeless hearts.  Let me be your sword.  Let me be your flame.  Let me be your Valentine!   At this point I should like to debunk one of your pet superstitions.  We do not hear with our ears.  I repeat that.  We do not hear with our ears.  Our eyes are mere window dressing, as useful as a glass eye at a keyhole.  Man hears with his left hind leg…that upsets all your grammar school notions doesn't it?  I don't want you to accept it on my mere say-so, but consider this, can a fish hear?  Of course he can.  Not with his ears.  Fish have no ears, they hear with their tails.  Dr Helmut Von Kratzkopf noted German explorer, philosopher, metaphysician and podiatrist, conducted an interesting experiment along these lines.  Von Kratzkopf put some ordinary run of the mill goldfish, into a ordinary run of the mill goldfish bowl, filled with ordinary run of the mill tap water, and then he proceeded to shout threats and insults at the fish.  “Verfluchte Fish Sau. Euch hat man wohl in die Muffe gepufft. Affen Fish. Schweine Fish. Hurren Fish. Ich lasse mich nicht von euch verpfumfheissen. In den Mülleimer mit euch, das es nur so kracht. Unwiederruflisch. Erbarmungsloss.” *  You should have seen the fish after a couple of days.  They were bitter fish, peaked peeved miffed huffed fish, discontented and disgruntled fish.  They would sulk easily.  They would bathe in tears three times a day, and seven times on Saturdays.  They would pollute beaches.  They would laugh like crocodiles… Fish do hear…with their tails.  After all, fish are just like other people, except that they are fish.   Back my friends, back I say, back to the position nature gave us in the beginning.  Down, down, down I say, down on all fours with out any further adieu!  Dearly beloved believe me walking on all fours is no pipedream, no utopia, no metaphysical goulash, no pie in the sky.  I didn't dream it up, or stir it up with a stick or something.  Walking on all fours is a fact.  A glorious fact!  A reality more real then reality.  It is living as nature meant you to live, with your vertebrae held horizontal from east to west, with your posterior pointing to the North Pole.  The Mariner’s guide.  With your belly-button as a center of gravity, transmitting poise and popularity to all the paths of your body.  Walking on all fours is the real McCoy.  It is worth its weight in gold.  It is too indescribably delicious.  Hallelujah!   But you can’t be wishy-washy about it, or namby-pamby.  Compromising won't do.  You can't just say “Let George do it.” or “Let Brother Theodore do it.  Let him walk on all fours; I’ve got arthritis.” Oh, no.  And walking on three legs won’t do either.  It’s whole hog or nothing.  You can’t learn how to swim unless you get into the water and drown.  Merely listening to Brother Theodore doesn’t make you a quadrupedist any more then going to a garage makes you an automobile.  Brother Theodore doesn't grow on every bush.  You can’t pick the cherries out of his pie and reject the thorns of his roses!  Don't you want to score a victory over your lower nature?  Don't you want to get the four legged know how?  Let me tell you friends... we still are friends, are we not?  Or at least very good acquaintances?  Well, let me tell you, very good acquaintances,  quadrupedism produces electromagnetic charges in your body.  It unblocks the kidney stew and stimulates the carbon dioxide in your lungs which turn to brewer’s yeast.  You have attained the logomundady, the locodaedely of the goo-goo.  You sit back and enjoy that glorious, that peppy, luxurious feeling that goes with regularity.  Fair enough?   Accept me.  Follow me.  I am not off my rocker, and I am no quack, no cultist, no charlatan.  My intentions are honorable.  I want to save you.  All of you.  From the most vomitory fate that has ever threatened human kind.  Extinction!  Can't you see where we are headed?  This is the end of the line.  The insects are about to wipe us off the map.  They are ready to take over.  We stand at the dawn of the insect age.  What do you think of that?  Just imagine the Tsetse fly running things, or the praying mantis.  Is that what you are after?  Is that what you are sending your kids to college for?  Or do you think you are immune to extinction because you are so clever?  So cute?  So essential to the music of the spheres?  Well, once upon a time another crowd felt that way too.  About a hundred million years ago, the dinosaurs had everything their own way.  They thought they knew all the answers.  They thought they could hear the grass growing.  Maybe they could.  But according to Titsling and Boukanowski, their social life was a disgrace.  They changed their sex every other month and used profane language, and at the age of three, at the very tender age of three, they would go steady in no uncertain manner and bring forth eggs as large as footballs!  Without benefit of clergy or city hall.  Extinction!  That's what they asked for, that’s what they got.  They were among the first to get up and waddle about on their hindlegs which made them so smug, so sissified, so self-absorbed they wouldn't even neck anymore.  It was too much bother.  Not that I care.  I can't figure out what they saw in each other in the first place.  I don’t go for dinosaurs.  Maybe I haven't met the right one yet…and anyway where are they now, those parasites?  And where is Sodom?  Where Gomorrah?  Where Paterson, New Jersey?  Ah, my very good acquaintances, Mother Nature can get terribly nasty when she puts her mind to it.  My, oh my.   Wake up!  Join Brother Theodore’s Happiness Campaign!  Smash the drugstores!  Hang the pill pushers!  Slaughter the surgeons!  Exterminate the cuckoo analysts!  Only when the last Freudian has been strangled with the entrails of the last Jungian, only when the last endocrinologist has been drowned in the blood of the last gastroenterologist, only then will there be a new life for us.  An earth redeemed and on it we shall dance, truly dance as we have never danced before, to the heartbeat of our great Mother Earth.  Caressing her on all fours.  Beast men, beast women!  ..and your tortured bodies, your anguished souls, will be at peace, at last.    Down into action!... Forward march!  Our goal: Washington.  Our end: Compulsory Quadrupedism. Our Battle Cry: Sanity!  March!    Back, back my friends, back to the position nature gave us in the beginning, down, down I say, down, down, down, down on all fours…   And if you happen to grow a tail...    Wag it.