MONSTER MANIFESTO by Greta Garbage

Coalition on Homelessness, SF (coh@sfo.com)
Wed, 1 Dec 1999 20:39:55 -0800


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MONSTER MANIFESTO
Yes, Mary Shelly, the monster lives.
Each waking moment
she fights to survive
in a village that hates her kind,
full of people who mindlessly,
obediently,
consume the living
and dismember the dead.

And before the mad doctor
could give her new life
as a woman,
it was his moral obligation to punish her
for daring to forsake the brotherhood
of man.
So he raped her, grinning, self-satisfied.
He raped her.
And this was her introduction
to womanhood.

Before too long, her newfound friends and lovers
grew tired of her sudden bouts of anxiety
her nagging fears and  insecurities,
her many tears of grief, cries for help left unanswered,
her endless, shame-laden apologies.

	"Likely story! Since when can a chick with a dick get raped?"
	"Those she-male freaks're so sex-starved, they'll take it 
anywhere they can get it."
	"Pain in the ass."
	"What does she expect us to do?"
	"He said he didn't do anything to her; he was only following 
routine procedure."
	"I've worked with him for years; he would never do that - 
he's very professional."
	"She's a little lying bitch."
	"She just wants attention."
	"I almost feel sorry for her."
	"Why? It's her own goddamn fault!"

Their rationalizations in place,
they soon found it more amusing
to exploit her vulnerabilities
for all they were worth.
So they lied to her, stole from her,
threatened, abused, tortured her,
and brought her to the point where she wanted nothing more
than to finish herself off with a butcher knife.

And yet, the Monster lives.
And each time she gets attacked, beaten down
mentally, physically, sexually,
each time she gets left for dead
in a pool of her own vomit and blood,
just like Ripley and Michael Myers,
in true Monster form,
she rises again from the shallow grave, knife in hand,
to get revenge on her tormentors,
and each time, she comes back
a little stronger than before.

Lately, she's come to like
her monstrous, cyborgian body.
The paradoxical yet strangely comforting way
those synthetic hormones that flow through her veins
seem to have made her more visible
as a woman,
and more invisible
as a monster.
The bizarre and wonderful way
those chemical antidepressants that make her so dizzy and tired all the time,
have managed, when all else has failed,
to keep anxiety at bay
and depression from closing in.

The Monster lives,
and now her own fear has become
her most formidable enemy.
Constant fear
that her scars will show,
that others will see
the Monster as she really is,
the cyborg,
half flesh, half machine,
a perverse creature of modern technology,
unreal, unhuman,
not human at all.

And yet the Monster lives.
Deep within the mystery
of her unspeakable existence
she has found strength, wisdom, beauty,
and a love for life
that she has never known before.

And the all-consuming shame
that once ate away at the Monster's heart,
shame at always being forced to suck the nipple
of the state that "created" her,
forever dependent on precious droplets of pills and spare change
ever wary of the fickle whims of the deranged state,
that old tired-ass shame
has turned to pride.
For she has survived on the outskirts of a hostile village,
and has lived a life
once deemed "impossible."

Yes Mary Daly, you were right.
Frankenstein's Monster walks among us.
And in case you didn't guess,
I
AM
THE FUCKIN' MONSTER
YOU'RE SO AFRAID OF,
AND THIS
IS MY MANIFESTO.

Better watch your back, Mary D.,
cuz your "biggest lie"
has a mind of her own,
and she's not alone.
She's got a growing posse
of trannies, crips, circus freaks,
sex workers, queers, S/M perverts, drug addicts,
and other so-called "human oddities,"
defects and rejects,
armed and dangerous,
backing her up.
Monsters, one and all.

And we ain't scared
of you and your eminent, ivy-league friends.
You think you can quietly write us out of existence
while safely secluded in that ivory tower
pearched oh so precariously
on that high cliff overlooking the village?
Y'all are just target practice.

And the mobbing villagers down below,
whom you've so expertly brainwashed.
They don't scare us.
When they're done killing each other off,
the survivors will join our tribe,
and the village will be ours.
And we'll raise our Monster children
in a world
where there's no such thing
as motherfuckin' shame.

Greta Garbage


END FORWARD

**In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. section 107, this material
is distributed without charge or profit to those who have
expressed a prior interest in receiving this type of information
for non-profit research and educational purposes only.**



*******************************************************
HOMELESS PEOPLE'S NETWORK <http://aspin.asu.edu/hpn>
6,000+ POSTS by or via homeless & ex-homeless people
Nothing About Us Without Us - Democratize Public Policy
*******************************************************

chance martin
Coalition on Homelessness, San Francisco
468 Turk St.
San Francisco, CA 94102
vox: (415) 346.3740
Fax: (415) 775.5639
coh@sfo.com
http://www.sfo.com/~coh
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***********************************************************

HOMELESS PEOPLE'S VIEWS, News, Alerts, Actions & Research

6,000+ ONLINE POSTS by or via homeless & ex-homeless people

HOMELESS PEOPLE'S NETWORK http://aspin.asu.edu/hpn

***********************************************************


<fontfamily><param>Courier_New</param>MONSTER MANIFESTO

Yes, Mary Shelly, the monster lives.

Each waking moment

she fights to survive

in a village that hates her kind,

full of people who mindlessly,

obediently,

consume the living

and dismember the dead.


And before the mad doctor

could give her new life

as a woman,

it was his moral obligation to punish her

for daring to forsake the brotherhood

of man.

So he raped her, grinning, self-satisfied.

He raped her.

And this was her introduction

to womanhood.


Before too long, her newfound friends and lovers

grew tired of her sudden bouts of anxiety

her nagging fears and  insecurities, 

her many tears of grief, cries for help left unanswered,

her endless, shame-laden apologies.


	"Likely story! Since when can a chick with a dick get raped?"

	"Those she-male freaks're so sex-starved, they'll take it anywhere
they can get it."

	"Pain in the ass."

	"What does she expect us to do?"

	"He said he didn't do anything to her; he was only following routine
procedure."

	"I've worked with him for years; he would never do that - he's very
professional."

	"She's a little lying bitch."

	"She just wants attention."

	"I almost feel sorry for her."

	"Why? It's her own goddamn fault!"


Their rationalizations in place,

they soon found it more amusing

to exploit her vulnerabilities

for all they were worth.

So they lied to her, stole from her,

threatened, abused, tortured her,

and brought her to the point where she wanted nothing more

than to finish herself off with a butcher knife.


And yet, the Monster lives.

And each time she gets attacked, beaten down

mentally, physically, sexually,

each time she gets left for dead

in a pool of her own vomit and blood,

just like Ripley and Michael Myers,

in true Monster form,

she rises again from the shallow grave, knife in hand,

to get revenge on her tormentors,

and each time, she comes back

a little stronger than before.


Lately, she's come to like

her monstrous, cyborgian body.

The paradoxical yet strangely comforting way

those synthetic hormones that flow through her veins

seem to have made her more visible 

as a woman,

and more invisible

as a monster.

The bizarre and wonderful way

those chemical antidepressants that make her so dizzy and tired all the
time,

have managed, when all else has failed,

to keep anxiety at bay

and depression from closing in.


The Monster lives,

and now her own fear has become

her most formidable enemy.

Constant fear

that her scars will show,

that others will see

the Monster as she really is,

the cyborg,

half flesh, half machine,

a perverse creature of modern technology,

unreal, unhuman,

not human at all.


And yet the Monster lives.

Deep within the mystery

of her unspeakable existence

she has found strength, wisdom, beauty,

and a love for life

that she has never known before.


And the all-consuming shame

that once ate away at the Monster's heart,

shame at always being forced to suck the nipple

of the state that "created" her,

forever dependent on precious droplets of pills and spare change

ever wary of the fickle whims of the deranged state,

that old tired-ass shame

has turned to pride.

For she has survived on the outskirts of a hostile village,

and has lived a life

once deemed "impossible."


Yes Mary Daly, you were right.

Frankenstein's Monster walks among us.

And in case you didn't guess,

I

AM

THE FUCKIN' MONSTER

YOU'RE SO AFRAID OF,

AND THIS 

IS MY MANIFESTO.


Better watch your back, Mary D.,

cuz your "biggest lie"

has a mind of her own,

and she's not alone.

She's got a growing posse

of trannies, crips, circus freaks,

sex workers, queers, S/M perverts, drug addicts,

and other so-called "human oddities,"

defects and rejects,

armed and dangerous,

backing her up.

Monsters, one and all.


And we ain't scared

of you and your eminent, ivy-league friends.

You think you can quietly write us out of existence

while safely secluded in that ivory tower

pearched oh so precariously

on that high cliff overlooking the village?

Y'all are just target practice.


And the mobbing villagers down below,

whom you've so expertly brainwashed.

They don't scare us.

When they're done killing each other off,

the survivors will join our tribe,

and the village will be ours.

And we'll raise our Monster children

in a world

where there's no such thing

as motherfuckin' shame.


Greta Garbage



</fontfamily>END FORWARD


**In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. section 107, this material

is distributed without charge or profit to those who have

expressed a prior interest in receiving this type of information

for non-profit research and educational purposes only.**




*******************************************************

HOMELESS PEOPLE'S NETWORK <<http://aspin.asu.edu/hpn>

6,000+ POSTS by or via homeless & ex-homeless people

Nothing About Us Without Us - Democratize Public Policy

*******************************************************

chance martin

Coalition on Homelessness, San Francisco

468 Turk St.

San Francisco, CA 94102

vox: (415) 346.3740

Fax: (415) 775.5639

coh@sfo.com

http://www.sfo.com/~coh

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