VLVL page 111 I ain't no teeage charismatic, Dodo.

[Terrance]

DL popped her head in in the late afternoon and looked around. 
"Just what thought--a teenage charismatic." 
"Not me," Prairie shrugged, "it's `ese recipes." 

Weber says that the will of the charismatic individual
becomes routinized in rational and traditional authority, 
but it is itself a specifically revolutionary force.  


Charismatic authority is thus specifically outside the
realm of everyday routine and the profane sphere. In
this respect, it is sharply opposed both to rational,
and particularly bureaucratic, authority, and to
traditional authority, whether in its patriarchal,
patrimonial, or any other form [...] Within the sphere
of its claims, charismatic authority repudiates the
past, and is in this sense a specifically
revolutionary force.

          --Max Weber

Frenesi dreamed of a mysterious people's oneness ... 117 

and individuals who in meetings might only bore or be pains in the ass
here suddenly being seen to transcend, almost beyond will to move
smoothly between baton and victim to take the blow instead, to lie down
on the tracks as the iron rolled in or look into the gun muzzle and
maintain the power of speech--there was no telling, in those days, who
might unexpectedly change this way, or when. Some were in it, in fact,
secretly for the possibilities of finding just such moments.  But Dl
admitted she was a little less saintly--  "Is the asskicking part's
usually what I'm lookin' for," watching Frenesi, waiting for
disapproval. "But somebody told me it don't much unless I make what they
call the correct analysis? and then act on it? Ever heard of that? 

Frenesi shrugged. "Heard of it. Maybe I don't have the patience. I have
to trust the way this makes me feel. Fells right, DL. Like we're really
going to change the world this time," looking back in the same
go-ahead-say-something way. 

Praire shrugged. Frenesi shrugged. And Weed dreams about being iced and
rolling on the iron tracks. 

Yeah, GR stuff all over again ... and the fagot police with their limp
batons and the revolutionary children beat, hoses open, in the streets
sliding on the cobblestones, the parents waiting for them  to come home
.... all so much better than this crap. 

Have you seen my penis
Uncle Remus
Just keep your camera open
Will that reeem us
Uncle Remus? 


 "Bending over to read P's cartoon (Vineland)," Brazil's greatest critic
wrote, "is too much on my rheumatism." 

Ellen Watson has translated Zero