It’s probably true to say that if it wasn’t for the Scala cinema in Kings’ Cross, you wouldn’t be reading this. The works of Russ Meyer, H.G.Lewis, Walerian Borowczyk, and possibly even such giants as David Cronenberg and Jackie Chan, would still be a closed book to this editor, and the delights of celluloid sex ‘n’ violence might have passed me by.
You get the impression the Scala has always been on it’s Pentonville Road site, but it’s lifespan there was barely a decade. It’s had various sites in the past – I believe it once occupied the current Channel 4 building – and moved to Kings’ Cross in the early eighties, taking over a building previously used as a showcase for primates! I first encountered it in 1984, on a trip down to London, and wondered why a cinema was showing ‘The Cure in Orange’ – the concept of a repertory movie-house was alien to me.
My first trip to it was, I think, in 1988. The exact date is hazy, but I remember the occasion; an H.G.Lewis double bill. Discovering the Scala was like finding the Holy Grail, in that it seemed to show all the films I’d read about, but given up any hope of seeing. At this time I was staying down in Hampshire, so it was a substantial effort to go, but hell, it was better than staying in Farnborough…
If I have one memory, it must be the all-nighters. Sitting behind two dope-heads who were smoking what appeared to be a newspaper with a pound of best Moroccan rolled up in it. Engaging in verbal battles with assholes who shout “funny” comments out for eight hours on the trot. Cramp, caused by trying to sleep in the incredibly unergonomic chairs. Trying desperately to stop anyone sitting in front of you, so you can drape your legs over the seat instead. And this was fun!?!? But there were better times: seeing ‘Edge of Sanity’ three times in a week; the British premiere of ‘Scandal’, with more people in the Scala than I’ve ever seen for anything else; Shock Around the Clock (remember them?); the cat, with a malicious tendency to leap, unannounced, into your lap at the most spine-chilling moment.
But the programming lost it’s innovative identity; the prospect of seeing Vixen/Supervixen/Beneath the Valley of the Ultravixens again eventually paled, and this is what probably led to the Scala’s demise. There were exceptions, especially in the last couple of months when they didn’t give a damn any more (not just ‘Deep Throat’, but a very dodgy film involving a household pet. Need I say any more, except possibly, “Woof”?), but there was little to entice punters into the Kings’ Cross crack dealing zone. Though the surrounding area was part of the appeal, it was ever an event to safely reach the foyer; no UCI multiplex has quite that edge. It was also comforting to know that if the film proved unbearably bad, you could always pop out for some substance abuse or a quick blow-job.
Of course, there was also the ‘Orange’ fiasco; I hope Warner Bros. are satisfied, having got lots of free publicity for the imminent re-release of the movie. And the rent increase by the snooker club beneath that owned it. And the imminent Channel Tunnel link. In the end, it was all too much, and the Scala died on June 6th, 1993. It went down with all guns blazing, literally, the last evening being a Chow Yun Fat festival, graced by the King of Hong Kong cinema himself. It was a serious lump-in-throat situation to be among the last people to leave the auditorium that night, after the final film, ‘Prison on Fire’.
“It was a dump, but it was our dump”, someone said on the way out, and that hits the nail on the head. No Cannon or MGM could ever generate the same attachment. One glimmer of hope: the Scala has moved before and maybe, just maybe, it will find somewhere new to operate from. For there’s nowhere even remotely like it, and it would be a shame if London was to permanently lose the unique programming, the incredible acid-trip mural-blasted foyer, the surly staff (located where they were, who can blame them?) and the incomparable feel that really was the Scala.
Here’s a nicely paranoid fantasy, worthy of a Tom Clancy thriller: it’s not the IRA who are currently planting bombs in various corners of Britain; it’s the Special Branch. This particular concept came to my mind because, recently, I’ve been getting increasingly twitchy about my liberty. The first symptoms started a couple of years ago, when automatic gates on the Underground were introduced, supposedly to stop fare-dodging. People worried about the fire risk, but no-one seemed to notice that given the nice magnetic stripe on the back, it would be a piece of electronic cake to track any ticket holder’s progress through the system.
It’s surveillance masquerading as a public service: BT are good at this, one of the major advantages of System X is that it makes phone tapping much easier, your itemised telephone bill (complete info on everyone you call, when and for how long) is merely the tip of the iceberg. See also computerised libraries: at university, it was widely rumoured that books on certain topics i.e. drugs were “alarmed”. When issued through the computer system, the name of the borrower was dumped in a file for later perusal by the powers-that-be.
Of course, it’s easy to get round some of these; for example, don’t take the tube, stick to buses or other methods of transport with manually inspected tickets. But that was before the IRA arrived, and it became clear under how much direct surveillance we residents of the capital live. Almost every bomb was followed by a variably clear picture showing suspects, and I started to realise how many cameras are out there taking our pictures. When even the traffic bimbo on the local news has access to a delightful variety of angles from which to pan, scan and zoom in on us, imagine the toys the police have to use.
This doesn’t apply just to terrorists. The hunt for the gay serial killer, with pictures taken at Charing X station, showed how easy it is for ‘them’ to check where you were going, who you were with, and when you were there, regardless of ticket collecting. Meet a visiting friend at King’s X, hand over a parcel and you can be sure you’ll be the subject of close scrutiny. And these are just the publicly owned cameras, add those on the outside of buildings, which the police are keen to add to their network, and you’re talking seriously comprehensive coverage.
“What have you got to hide?” is the obvious question. Put it this way: even if you’re pure as driven snow, I’d worry about a body with the reputation of the Metropolitan Police having untrammelled access to my life. There are also many unanswered questions regarding these cameras. Who has access to the footage? How long are the tapes kept before being scrubbed?
However, this is still not unbearable; the sheer volume of London means that it would be hard for them to track any specific individual very far, though I confess I’d be a relatively easy target given my fondness for sight-ripping T-shirts. But at the start of July, the City of London introduced checkpoints on selected routes into the Square Mile, sealing off all other gateways. Vehicles and passengers were stopped and searched. Did they catch any terrorists?
No. The first day the roadblocks were in operation, they did arrest three people. For possessing drugs. I find this offends my British sense of fair play; if they stop you on suspicion of being a terrorist, it’s surely a bit off to look for anything other than Semtex. In any case, even if they are trying to prevent the supply of illicit pharmaceuticals to the City of London, I doubt the yuppie dealers will have to do without their supplies of Colombian talcum-powder as the police don’t yet search helicopters.
Terrorism has become a stick with which to beat our freedom over the head. It seems that people will acquiesce to any erosion of their liberty if threatened with the bogeyman of Irish nationalism. Control by fear, and irrational fear at that. In the past year, precisely two people have died in London as a result of terrorist activity – and one of those was a ‘News of the World’ photographer, hardly a great loss (maybe next time the IRA will get the editor). This is insignificant compared to, say, the number of people killed on the roads, or even those who die In police custody.
Ah, but the IRA aren’t trying to kill people, they’re trying to cause disruption to life in the capital. However, if you want disruption, you just have to stroll across London Bridge in the morning; what was a busy but moving thoroughfare has become the automobile equivalent of the La Brea Tar Pits, thanks to the police’s checkpoints.
The IRA’s bombing of London seems strangely at odds with the peace talks currently going on In Ireland (although Bosnia admittedly proves it’s easy to talk and wage war simultaneously); so here’s where the alternative scenario mentioned at the start comes in. The government want to clamp down on our freedom; so they commit the odd atrocity here and there to convince us of I he reality of a “terrorist threat” (again, Bosnia shows that governments will happily kill their own citizens for propaganda purposes).
They institute draconian security measures in a small area – namely, the City of London. The “terrorists” move their activities elsewhere; at time of writing, North London (a sensible choice – large areas up there would be immeasurably Improved by a meteor strike). This can then be trumpeted as proving the success of the City of London scheme, which will then be extended, first to London, then to all other potential IRA targets – and that basically covers any built-up area. The day may be coming when you can’t go Into the centre of your town without being photographed, searched and questioned.
Still uncertain? One final point then: contemplate for a moment how much easier it is to achieve spectacular, vote-winning success against a terrorist organization, when you’re running it yourself…
In the same way cinema feeds off literature, anime feeds off manga. But recently, the process has been taken further, with the appearance of live-action films, official and otherwise, which take inspiration to a degree from Japanese animation. Here are some comparative reviews of the most striking examples, which should keep you going until the proposed live-action version of ‘Fist of the North Star’ appears, with Gary Daniels as the, er, Northern star of the fists.
The Magnum of Love’s Destiny vs. City Hunter
City Hunter’s adaptation was not really a surprise, as it’s a phenomenally popular series. Hero Ryu Saeba was second in a Japanese poll for All-Time Favourite Anime Character, and it’s also the No.1 comic in both Hong Kong and Taiwan. But we can’t directly compare live-action and anime versions because here only the characters are borrowed. Plotwise, the animated City Hunter movie, “The Magnum of Love’s Destiny”, bears absolutely no resemblance to Jackie Chan’s film. And indeed, JC himself is very different to the “real” Ryu Saeba, who is over six feet tall, revels in lechery (in the manga, his erections break bullet proof glass and calls himself “the #1 pervert in Japan”) and wields a Colt Python .357 Magnum. Jackie isn’t, doesn’t and doesn’t, respectively. But Jackie’s reworking retains the same outlook – humour ‘n’ violence – and is great fun, even if you’ve never seen the anime.
The plot is easy to dispose of: “Die Hard” on a boat, aka “Under Siege”. Ryu & sidekick Kaori are on a liner, hunting a tycoon’s daughter. Also there are jewel thieves, two beweaponed police-babes, a hypernatural gambler and a lot of hostages. Work out the rest yourself.
While the story is basic, execution is impeccable. JC’s last couple have been disappointing, but this is a cracker. Physical comedy is his forte: he delivers hideous amounts of ultra-violence yet, as in the best cartoons, pain is merely a punchline. Once the thieves take over the ship, it’s non-stop action to rival ‘Police Story’, tho’ with surprisingly little martial arts. However, the best scene has to be the one where our hero gets electrocuted by a ‘Streetfighter 2’ machine, and transforms into the characters from it, including Chun-Li who finishes off villain Gary Daniels with a gleeful “Ya-taaa!”.
If there is a weakness in this film, I can’t see it; it gives you everything you could want from an action movie and then some. There’s another film out called ‘Lady City Hunter’, starring TC-fave Cynthia Khan. Despite her extra cute, it’ll have to be seriously good to match this effort. A
Having examined the live-action film in isolation, what’s “Magnum…” like on it’s own merits? Firstly, it assumes the viewer knows the background, understandable, given the TV series has 100+ episodes. Newcomers may hence be forgiven for wondering about the massive hammers with which Kaori frequently clubs Ryu on the head (usually after an especially debauched letch!).
Its plot is incredibly complex, at least in comparison to JC’s film, and is more of a thriller than an action movie, with secret agents, diplomats, double-crosses and people-not-being-what-they-seem. As such, it seems a waste of time animating it. as there’s little that couldn’t be done with actors. The aforementioned hammer is one of the few additions, and most of the film’s memorable sequences happen as Ryu Saeba tries to get off with one or other of the pretty women who cross his path.
It’s enjoyable enough on it’s own terms, skillfully animated and with excellent story-handling; but anyone coming to this via the Jackie Chan movie will probably be disappointed, just as any anime fan drawn to the live-action version will have been in for a surprise. C
Supernatural Beast City vs. Wicked City
Supernatural Beast City is one of the most rampantly enjoyable of the horror anime films, mixing sex with large helpings of messy violence, and topping the cake with slabs of style. There is also an wry sense of humour, presumably intentional – lines like “It’s alright, he only got my false arm” are hard to take seriously. The tone is set with a real zapper of an opening scene: the hero, Taki, picks up a woman in a bar and takes her to his hotel. After sex, she metamorphoses into a spider-creature with a vagina dentata, and scurries down the hotel wall, leaving Taki grateful to still have his tackle intact.
The plot is then revealed; the two worlds, demon and human, are to sign a peace treaty. However, some sections of the demon world are opposed to this and are trying to wreck the treaty. Taki, together with a female demon whose fngernails make Freddy Krueger look like a blunt letter-opener, are assigned to bodyguard one of the signatories, and have to fend off a near-continuous series of attacks. Things are not quite as obvious as they seem, however, and by the end, very little of what you thought was true turns out to be accurate.
The animation is excellent, and makes full use of all the tricks at it’s disposal to enhance the action. The plot does have holes – the VIP starts off in a hotel, before moving to a more secure location, begging the question why he didn’t go there to start with – but these can be ignored. A personal favourite, it’s “Evil Dead”s ‘spam in a cabin’ upped to “spam in a megalopolis”. A-
[The dubbed version (Manga, 12.99), known as ‘Wicked City’ is pretty good, though the irony appears to have gone AWOL, leaving some dialogue seeming merely squirm-inducingly shabby; real pedants may quibble over the change in the pronounciation of the hero’s name from ‘Tah-ki’ to ‘Tacky’ (though ‘tacky’ seems entirely appropriate to me!). But it’s otherwise nicely done – it’d take a lot to sink this one – and is still unquestionably worth picking up. B+]
The similarities of `Wicked City’ to SBC start with the title, which matches the one by which SBC is known here. And the opening scene, too, is an obvious lift, with Taki taking a woman to his room, etc. Things do diverge, as he is saved by his colleague, Ken, and from there on the stories follow parallel but differing courses. In both, there are friendly female ‘raptors’, as ‘Wicked City’ calls them (shades of ‘Jurassic Park’ perhaps?), and the demon world is divided against itself. However, ‘Wicked City’ concentates more on the power struggle between the raptor leader, Daishu, and his son who wishes to poison the human world with a drug called ‘happiness’.
The raptors are also more variable; in SBC, they’re either human or, well, icky, but ‘Wicked City’ has a wild assortment of different species. Most notable are the liquid kind (with very nasty effects if you drink one – think ‘Scanners’) and a pseudo-cybernetic creature capable of becoming anything from an elevator to a nymphomaniac pinball table. Indeed, under duress, she turns into a femme-bike: this would seem to be based on anime/manga “Midnight Eye”, and it is known that producer Tsui Hark has been working with it’s creator, Byuichi Terasawa.
While full of great ideas, ‘Wicked City’ doesn’t quite live up to some of them. It’s almost as if the makers threw in everything they came up with, regardless of successful execution. Characters, and indeed the acting, seem something of an afterthought. The end result is something that does pass muster, especially at the cinema where the visuals are especially striking. but on close inspection it shows definite signs of urban decay. C+
The Guyver vs. Mutronics
What is it about Japanese schools? Watching anime, you get the impression that educational establishments there are multicultural in a way undreamt of by even the looniest local council; the average school has aliens, trans-sexuals, demons, lechers and, in `The Guyver’, even the odd piece of military bio-technology. It’s probably the case that after graduating, all of the above settle down, get steady jobs as salarymen, marry, have kids, and become pretty boring. “Legend of the OverAccountant”, anyone?
Anyway, the basic premise here is as follows: a “thing” is taken out of a top-secret laboratory and attaches itself to an unsuspecting hero. Then, said hero transforms at irregular intervals into a monster, capable of taking on a selection of other monsters sent out from the top-secret lab to retrieve “thing”. Repeat as necessary.
The result is enjoyable schlock in 25-minute doses, but it doesn’t take long – two episodes are enough – to spot the pattern and make a reasonable guess as to what will happen in the future. To steal a (mis)quote, “imagine a monstrous foot stomping on a monstrous face…forever”. Of course, I could be wide of the mark. Maybe the Guyver finds a cute female monster, falls in love, moves to a suburb of Osaka and gets a job as an estate agent. But I don’t think so. D- [However, there is a different animation, ‘The Guyver: Out of Control’, which tells pretty much the same story, just rather better. It gets a B- and is thus definitely preferred]
Hollywood is littered with the corpses of comic-book characters which failed to one degree or other – Supergirl, Swamp Thing and, probably the biggest turkey a l’orange of them all, Howard the Duck. ‘Mutronics’, as the live-action ‘Guyver’ was called in this country, is the first anime/manga to be filmed in the West; presumably, the film received a certain impetus from the Japanese origins of director Screaming Mad George. And it isn’t in the same league as the abovementioned failures, perhaps because it’s relentless stupidity is deliberate, and in fact, quite endearing.
The core story remains the same, albeit moved out of school, and there’s a love interest. The attitude is also seriously changed, with a large number of horror in-jokes, courtesy of people like Linnea Quigley and Jeffrey Coombs; the planned sequel is going to be darker and less humourous. While it loses on the effects side – there are too many rubber suits and off-camera transformations – it gains by being a complete story, rather than having to cram in some story, advert breaks and a climax into thirty minutes. The overall effect is more reminiscent of Japanese live-action shows like ‘Kamen Rider’ than any anime, with people in strange costumes hurling each other around like rag dolls.
Overall, if you’re a fan of monster movies and horror films, then it will probably work. But if you’re not, then it may be just a little too silly to get a grip on. Fortunately, I fall into the former category and, as far as Americanised anime go, it’s a lot better than ‘Battle of the Planets’. B-
The best of the rest
This merely represents the thin end of the wedge, and are those you’ve the best chance of seeing. Also worth noting are ‘The Story of Ricky’, a splatter-fu live-action version of ‘Riki-oh’, with some truly special effects on the gore front, and ‘Killer’s Romance’, inspired by (ok, ripped off from) ‘Crying Freeman’. There’s also an official live-action ‘Crying Freeman’ under production in America, produced by Brian Yuzna. And the Japanese have, at various points, turned the following anime series into live movies, or vice versa: Lupin III, Appleseed, Doomed Megalopolis, Maison Ikkoku, Kekko Kamen, Yawara!, Dragonball Z (due for release here in ’94), Sukeban Deka, Kimagure Orange Road and Video Girl Ai. We await a remake of ‘Legend of the Overfiend’ with interest…
John Worley, Northampton – “Hello, hello, I thought you were dead. Hmm, that’s actually the title of an ancient Hudson + Ford song. Quite why that should stick in mind I really have no idea. Reckon the older one gets, the more junk accumulates inside one’s head (just as more fanzine accumulate inside one’s room). Anyway, it’s nice to see another issue of TC out on the streets – someone obviously didn’t like it and discarded it in the gutter…”
Ah, irony, I see. The point about head-junk is true, I fear; as I run towards The Big 30 – still some years to go, I may add – my brain fills up with useless trivia to the detriment of useful things. Like my name. Still, they say short-term memory loss is the first sign of senility. Or is it long-term memory loss…?
Miles Wood, London – “Interesting to see a review of ‘The Story of Linda’. I recall going into a video shop back in Wolverhampton with a view to purchasing (or rehiring to copy), Just Jaeckin’s adaption of ‘The Story of O’. I was informed, much to my distress, that the shop no longer stocked that title, but that I might wish to try ‘The Story of Linda’. Feeling vaguely insulted – did they think I wanted to watch any old porno flick? – I politely declined the offer. Hmmm, funny how these things stick in one’s mind”.
A phrase which rings a bell; wish I could remember why… Moving on, some words about the babe above:
Rik Rawling, Morley- “You have noticed I’ve enclosed some pictures of stuff I’ve drawn in recent years…Your artwork throughout the mag seems to involve all my various obsessions – hot babes, mutants, dangerous weapons and any kind of weirdness”.
I think this is a compliment, but faced with some free artwork, I’m not going to argue. Especially since CorelDraw’s clip art libraries are a tad short of hot babes, mutants or dangerous weapons. Also out of the box marked ‘Compliments?’:
David Stark + Carl Desforges, Driffield – “We both agree that you must be a sad, depraved, perverse individual, so all we can say is keep up the good work”.
Don’t believe anyone who tells you ‘zine editors do it for the ego-boost… Now, here are three people who seem to have too much time on their hands.
Dom Morris, Lincoln – “I’ve come to believe that in the future, money as we know it will cease to be used to carry out transactions. In the place of cash, people will use the universal currency of “Pictures of Nastassja Kinski (with no clothes on)”. So, in the interests of progress, here are two PoNK notes – worth a couple of new issues, surely?”
Andy Collins, E.Sussex – “I discovered an unusual cup at a local discount warehouse (you know, where they sell all the dodgy food which is desperately trying to imitate brand names but doesn’t get much further than the colour of the wrapping), and promptly bought it. The unusual feature? A picture of a nude girlie stuck to one side. Nothing special about that, particularly, except the fact that she has got ‘painted on’ underwear. This little gimmick is apparently to “encourage your man to do the washing up” because, yes, you guessed it, when the underwear gets wet, it becomes see-through and you get 100% muff-vision. I thought about keeping my porn-mug permanently immersed in tepid water (something around 37C), but rejected this on the grounds of (a) perhaps I should use the thing for it’s proper purpose and (b) it’s more fun licking it wet in the appropriate parts. Unfortunately, she’s now peeled off, probably due to intense tongue abuse, so she’s just sitting on my desk looking sultry. I’m just glad that man is putting new technologies to good use instead of wasting them on puerile commercial gimmicks”
Andy Waller, Bromsgrove – “Probably the highlight of the week was on Friday afternoon, when I had to dress up as ‘Mr.Blobby’ for a kiddies’ party (3-4 year olds). There was an appeal on the radio for someone, so I volunteered – got paid a bit of cash and it was quite entertaining too (very surreal). The suit provided was bloody hot, and pretty uncomfortable, since I was in it for about three hours. The little kid, whose birthday it was, was an objectionable little bastard – at one point he was calling me a “twat” and chucking plastic chairs at me. Similarly, if Mr. Blobby falls over, it seems to be the in thing for all the kids to pile on top of him, unfortunately for me. I came home pretty bruised and less fond of four-year old kids than I had been a few hours before”.
Mr.Waller is now available for parties, bar mitzvahs and satanic rituals. Wonder if the parents knew they were hiring a man whose published works include, in this very ‘zine, a piece on the delights of necrophilia? Any similarity to John Wayne Gacy is, I’m sure, purely coincidental.
Mike Landers, Colne – “Currently having a musical crisis. Perhaps you could explain this for me. There is a song on MTV getting heavy airplay called “Open Sesame” by a Swedish Muslim rapper called Leila K. It has everything I usually hate in music: unintelligible lyrics à la “Informer” which when deciphered mean very little, twenty zillion BPM (if a human being could play the drums as fast, he’d probably explode as in ‘Spinal Tap’), unoriginal video featuring bimbos gyrating and…I like it. In fact, I would go out and buy it if I could. If this carries on, I shall have to resign my membership of the Metallica fan club – and if you follow the stereotype through, the local Satanic cult too”.
Hang on… Unintelligible lyrics? Unoriginal video featuring bimbos gyrating? Sounds pretty much like heavy metal to me! No, a wide taste in music is a good thing – broadens the mind, encourages tolerance, and extends the number of babes with whom you can claim to have something in common…
Peter Payne, Japan – “I was told by my landlady the other day that, because I was teaching children in my apartment, I was in violation of our lease agreement. She’s kind of being underhanded, taking advantage of the fact that I’d never read our lease contract since it was in Japanese. Her real reason appears to be that she’s getting married and needs the space for her new husband; I am just a poor, stupid foreigner…Oh well – just as in America there are good people and bad people. In Japan you have to have 4-5 times your first month’s rent up front for deposit, “right money” i.e. pay the money to have the right to live there, and “thank you” money, thanking whoever is allowing you to live there. This amounts to $1200 or so, which you generally don’t get back…”
That explains it! The landlord at 7 Tummons Gardens is Japanese, that’s why he kept our 900 quid deposit. Hmm, never met any black, sax-playing Japanese people before.
A distinct shortage of sufficiently off-the-wall letters this time – are you lot growing cagey, wary of my steely wit? This is a rhetorical question. To bring this up to a nice, even number, we bring you the page opposite. I have been reliably informed that if you stare at it hard enough, you will experience wondrous visions. Or something. Me, all I got was a headache, despite close scrutiny under the influence of everything from Guinness to kebab. All descriptions of what you can see in the picture are very welcome…
We interrupt your regular viewing for a TC Public Service Announcement
1) WHAT IS A JAKE? (AND WHERE CAN I GET SOME?)
Jake is defined as part of Operation Mindfuck. Basically, it involves a lot of people collaborating to send a lot of weird stuff to some bureaucrat/official somewhere, asking for some information/help, preferably in an obscure or unusual way.T he letters are timed to arrive on the same day, and to make the bureaucrat/official/etc. think that either he is the target of a global conspiracy of lunatics or the general public are much more imaginative than he has previously
2) WHAT IS THIS SPAM JAKE?
The plan: on twenty-third of May, 1994 (Spam Jake Day), a lot of mail will arrive at the headquarters of Hormel Foods, the manufacturer of Spam, from all over the world. This will be from various Discordian, SubGenius and other weird religious groups: and from anyone else who can be convinced to join in. Each letter will claim that the sender’s own group is the original Church of Spam, and request official endorsement from Hormel Foods as such.
3) HOW DO I GET INVOLVED?
If you wish to be involved in this global mindfuck, all you have to do is write such a letter, in the name of your religion/conspiracy (if you don’t have one, found one), adding any embellishments you may wish to add and send it to:
Send the letter before Spam Jake Day, if possible timing it so that it arrives on Spam Jake Day. The rest is up to you.
4) WHAT WILL THIS ACHIEVE?
With luck, somebody at Hormel will find their desk inundated with curious missives from all sorts of strange groups from all over the world asking for official sanction for some esoteric activity involving Spam, or, in the parlance, “weird shit”. Unable to dismiss this as a small, localised prank they will be very much puzzled by this and possibly shall attain illumination from the shock. Candidates for official approval may receive interesting replies; furthermore, the media may pick up on this, distorting it and adding further chaos to the equation. In any case, the ripples of this should be felt far and wide, if enough people get involved.
A brief comment from TC… This did not originate from IC but is reprinted in abridged/amended form as a service to interested individuals. The origin of the Jake is deep within Me Internet computer network but for the non-networked amongst you, this is presented so that you too can he part of the worldwide personhood of the Church of Spam (whoever vans That coveted name…). Global confusion or bust.