What a piece of work is man
How noble in reason
How infinite in faculties
In action how like and angel
The paragon of animals.

Sound familiar? The old Bard wrote that about 400 years ago. You remember Will…Will Shakespeare? The frustrated playwright, never allowed to say what he really wanted to, always forced by self-righteous papal bigots to use double, even triple metaphors, sometimes to the point of totally obscuring what he was trying to say in the first place. At least he succeeded in confusing me most of the time anyway! How enriched all our lives would’ve been had O’l Will been able to publish his original draft, the one that goes…  “Romeo, Romeo, where the fuck are you!” So much more to the point, don’t you think?

Browning, Frost, Kilmer, they were all the same; all stifled by the “holy rollers”. In fact, without all the bullshit censorship throughout the ages, some really great things may have been written. As it is, we’ve had to make do with second-class literature.

But hey! Fuck it! No more blue pencil, right? We’re free! Thank you Lenny Bruce! Thank you George Carlin! Thank you Al Ginesburg! How proud I was to have been part of the revolution, the cutting edge – a witness to the Age of Aquarius!

When Lenny Bruce was jailed for obscenity on stage, we drove all night to Philadelphia and marched outside the police station chanting, “The last time I heard  - Fuck was just a word! The last time…”  ‘til the cops came out in riot gear and beat the shit outta’ anyone in their way and we shouted “Fascist pigs” and ran like hell because we were right and we knew it!

Then George Carlin went on stage with his 7 famous swear words and we all ran around yelling “Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, Tits” and wallowed in our new found freedoms, because we were right and we knew it!

Then came Polanski, then Bergman, then Fellini, then… Oh shit! They all came so fast we were like intoxicated mannequins. Each battle was bloody and with each conquest we hungered for more. When Playboy published it’s famous “pubes” portfolio and Hugh was hailed for his “artistic talent”, we were delirious and celebrated our domino victories in foggy chemical trances. And there were nights we were so fucking aware, we were face to face with God – and sometimes watched Him nod in approval!

But soon the “pubes” became passé, so we demanded frontals. The frontals begat spread-eagles; which begat couples, which begat groups, which begat leather… and so on, and so on… and we were so happy we could – we never stopped to wonder if we should. But what the fuck, we thought, it’s all art! And art should never be censored! Right? Right!

But life, it seems, is just so many trade-offs. Everything has a price and the piper must always be paid! But at what point is the price too high? At what point is it time to glance away from the auctioneer?

There is a painting that hangs in a well-respected art gallery in Toronto. In it, an 8-year-old girl is “giving head” to an old man. They tell me it’s art; that it “exemplifies the free choice of youth”, that it’s “innocence is cleansing”.  It’s innocence is cleansing!

Well, my fellow revolutionaries I’m out of money and I’ve nothing left to trade. Somewhere, something went horribly wrong. Our sweet song of freedom became a harpy’s wail. Sensual cinematic explorations – just so much celluloid poison. Our beautiful quest for freedom of artistic expression has deteriorated into a cesspool of human depravity.

Chapman – Olson – Bernardo – Homolka – Dahmer – Manson. Despite all our triumphs, we are only one short step from the cave, protected and held together by blue uniforms – gossamer thin. With each passing day, we become more desensitized. Clockwork Orange is near. At night, as we gather round the fire, basking in the safety of its warm glow, content with our achievements, celebrating our freedoms, the foul wolf prowls the dark perimeter, and one by one our children disappear. For the wolf must eat!

Today a new battle emerges – sabres are drawn – lines etched in the sand. At stake is your right to continue with nature’s grand experiment, or perish in darkness with the beast!

As for me…
I never really sleep anymore…

There was a time when nothing really mattered.
There was a time when there was nothing I didn’t know.
There was a time when I knew just what I was living for.
There was a time and the time was so long ago.
– Jim Steinman

— Multiple publications