And the blame for all this, the man lays, with the wild approval of the audience, at the feet of the robotic phoniness of the world of commerce and its inhabitants and the robotic phoniness of the world of politics and its inhabitants and the robotic phoniness of the world of academia and its inhabitants and the robotic phoniness of the world of work and its inhabitants and the robotic phoniness of the world of childhood and its inhabitants and the robotic phoniness of the world of personhood and its inhabitants and even, even, even the robotic phoniness of the fucking world of play and ITS inhabitants.

And the man, who couldn't be much older than Krishnamurti was at approximately the same age and has hair that looks sandy in full sunlight, goes on, in a mocking tone, about those pathetic losers who think they can respond to this robotic phoniness in all aspects of being by getting on board the wildly popular Backdoor Express to Scumbag Sainthood -- by being a bigger scumbag than everybody else.

"Well, it won't work!" he tells them. But fortunately he's come to show them another way, even though the utterly stupid brutal way he's just described has actually been working at least 60% of the time, but of course the only reason it's working is because of the universal law of everything always working out fucking backwards no matter what the fuck you fucking do!

There's an extended moment of silence in the audience as everyone thinks to his or her or itself about how it's more like 99.9% of the time that everything always works out fucking backwards, and then goes on to run through the 10 or 12 most recent instances of this everything always working out fucking backwards -- with most from probably just moments ago.

When the silence finally hits its inherent (genetically determined?) limit, the naked sandy-haired man who not only looks like the middle-aged Krisnamurti, but also like the young Meir Baba and like the way Richard Lenz looks in heaven, continues on.

"OK, so the REAL reason for all this", he says, "is that the NEW world is behind you now. And it's honking its horn and making all kinds of gestures at you with the usual suspect finger. So you will just have to get out of the way. And I am here to tell you how to get the fuck out of the way with style and grace."

But just as he's about to do this, there's a knock on the stadium door and a film crew shows up and starts shooting a scene all around him. It's the scene where all the protagonists drive up in their pickup trucks, get out and methodically shoot each other dead, one at a time, till 10-20 are lying on the ground with many broken blood capsules all around and only one woman left to lift the head and shoulders of a body off the dirt, cradle it in her bloody arms, and cry.

Now, in order to continue on and still be heard above the din of production, the speaker has to start telling inane anecdotes like the one about [inane anecdote deleted] and when that doesn't work, he shifts to the oldest crowd pleaser in the book.

"First there is history," he says, and the crowd perks up its ears, "which is bullshitting with 'facts.' And then there is opinion, which is bullshitting with bullshit itself. And since the human mind is made of the same fucking genes as peas and cabbage, pure, perfect bullshit (or horseshit) is the medium it grows best in -- so let's all just get out there and bullshit our asses off...!!!"

At which point, of course, the audience rises to its feet and cheers wildly en masse like somebody just told them their town is the hardest rockin town in the USA -- and probably the world. And the film crew has to suspend shooting the final shoot out death scene today cause there's so much fucking noise, they can't even hear themselves, you know, think.

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