Mark Allen's Top Ten Visionaries
for November 2nd, 2003:
Here's some fire-side reading (and listening) for the coming chilly days of Fall:

Many of you may already be familiar with these first two... if you are, skip to number three:

1. Francis E. Dec
    - read here (via The Kook's Museum) and listen here (via
    If you've been looking at my website for a while... you know I've often spread the impressionable and inspirational writings of Francis E. Dec frequently as possible and in/at the most socially unacceptable times and locations... with much fervor and shrill delight (often reading his maniacal tomes aloud on my old radio show at top lung power into an overloaded microphone as my listeners logged off and dropped like flies).
    How could anyone resist Francis' warnings of the "Frankenstein Earphone Radio parroting puppet gangster slaves" and "Computer God Containment Policy brain bank brain, a real brain in the brain bank cities on the far side of the moon we never see..." as well as the "camouflaged miniature hospital van trucks" that creep through our neighborhoods at night and are operated by "slimy vicious Jew doctors" who "... simply pushes the starting button, based upon your Computer God brain on the moon which records progress of your systematic butchery. Your butchery is continued exactly, systematically. The Computer God operating cabinet has many robot arms with electrical and laser beam knife robot arms with fly eye TV cameras watching your whole body. Every part of you is monitored, even from your Frankenstein controls. Synthetic blood, synthetic instant-sealing flesh and skin, even synthetic electrical heartbeat to keep you alive are some of the unbelievable Computer God instant plastic surgery secrets. You are the highest, most intelligent electrical machine in the Universe!"
    The entire history of what little is known about Francis E. Dec, and all of his known documented rants (distributed via mass mailings to major media and posted flyers in the New York area in the mid-80's) are all saved here at the excellent The page includes also some utterly priceless and by now well-known recorded readings of his writings done by a Los Angeles-based radio DJ. The very resourceful Kook's Museum even has a facsimile of one of Dec's original flyers.
    Although to this day no one has ever met Francis E. Dec* - his rants come close to the same level of fame as the Unabomber's Manifesto ...and his writings having been paid homage to by fringe luminaries like William S. Burroughs, Robert Crumb and Genesis P. Orridge. Who can resist? NOBODY!!! "Solely Mr. Dec exposes False God Sodomy and Gomorrah of you Worldwide Computer God parroting puppet gangster slaves. Make copies for yourself you hangman rope gangster scum-on-top. Laugh your mad giggle now! GANGSTER MONKEY SEE, GANGSTER MONKEY DO!"

    *Gasp! It's not true! Read here for a rather sad report by Forrest Jackson, and herefor a full court case transcript!

2. Li'l Markie
    - read and listen here (via and also read and listen to even more here (via The 365 Days Project)
    Much as is the case with Francis E. Dec, if you're a nerdy hipster of fringe culture... you may have already heard the Christian values-themed "songs" of Li'l Markie... but just in case you haven't... then you MUST!!!
    I first became aware of the Li'l Markie recording "Diary of An Unborn Child" via the superb found-vinyl record site If you are viewing this page at work... and you work in a typical office, please turn your computer speakers up as loud as possible and play the mp3 link. The ensuing hysteria and firing of you will be unmatchable and unforgettable in it's dramatic rapid-ness and ferocious-ness. No... you are not having a horrible nightmare... it's just an mp3. Repeat to yourself; "It's just a song... it's just a song..."
    Vinyl copies of the original pressings of Li'l Markie LPs apparently go for quite a lot on the collector's market. But forget the stereotype... because unlike the person who shot Larry Flynt, the man behind the Li'l Markie voice is no face-less recluse! According to the information found on 365 Days Project he's still around and recently made a comeback!

3. The Tooth, the Whole Tooth and Nothing But The Tooth - by James David Kiehn
    - read here
    Now that we have Francis E. Dec and Li'l Markie out of the way... let's examine some lesser known visionaries. James David Kiehn has some dental problems, and also a lot of family trouble. And his website just wants to set a few things straight! OKAY!? Of course he probably got the ...uh, ...idea from the real implantable tooth telephone that was debuted in the UK last year.
    I always said those cell phone ear piece/headsets were making it impossible to tell the schizophrenics from the upwardly mobile on the streets of Manhattan... *sigh* ...we always miss the "old" New York City don't we? But back to reality... if the whole implantable telephone tooth thing takes off for real and becomes as commonplace as the cell phone has ...well first of all... imagine the whole telemarketing thing. Plus... I mean... with people walking around the crowded streets talking out loud to nobody except hidden ear-phone sets, reports of exploding cell phones becoming more commonplace... and the looming technology of electronic voice communications being implanted in out teeth via dentists which will allow literal voices in our heads and a kind of dress-rehearsal for the ESP of the next generation... I mean... haven't the paranoid schizophrenics been right all along?
    Speaking of "old" New York...

4. George Dahl: Untitled Letter
    - read here (courtesy The Kooks Museum).
    This fascinating found letter is one of the first things I ever read from The Kooks Museum. It's from someone obviously suffering from some form of schizophrenia. I have always found this letter to be completely nuts yet weirdly calm, eloquent and beautiful. This is truly one of the most fascinatingly touching things I have ever read.
    But also...
    There is also something very, very disturbing and mind-boggling about this letter (for me). During the early 90's... I lived at 622 E 11th street (between avenues B and C), right next door to where he lived! (according to his letter). I totally know exactly which building he lived in... as it was identical to mine and right next door (it was owned by the same landlord). When he talks about moving along the avenue and having everyone around him cue into place to fool him... and the whole thing about ConEd on 14th street... the importance of the intersection of 11th and B... the three windows that faced light shafts and the one window that faced the back of a row of buildings from 10th street - that was exactly my apartment!!! I can literally picture exactly the spaces he is talking about.
    This actually may be the reason I find this letter so oddly endearing... as the year that I lived right next door to the space where this man lived in such a private weird world... was indeed a tumultuous and eventful year in my life. Plus... I remember having to set my alarm early on Thursdays to get up and get into place in Tompkins Square Park with my secret ear radio and mind-reading computer disguised as a fake dog... just so I could tell the FBI what he was doing during his weekly stroll and display brazen displays of contempt and sexual interest as he walked past me. We were all in it together. Yes... what a year.

5. Mucus Fat - by Arthur H. Bloom
    - read here
    Don't look at this one if you've just eaten. Actually, this guy's theories (and visceral photo documentation), after a thorough reading, start to make a weird kind of sense... although it may be his bombastic earnestness that fogs the mind. Or does it clear the mind? All I know is I had to fight the urge to run downstairs to the deli and buy a bottle of Welch's white grape juice, a spray bottle... get out the colander and let the foam fly baby! But I fought the urge. Seriously... this one's kinda slimy... right out of a Cronenberg film.

6. The American Spy Cow - by Jacob Haisley
    - read here
    I've looked this one over several times and I think it's "real" (not a put-on). Although... seeing as how The Autoharp Quarterly's official website is on the same url... well... actually doesn't really clear up the mystery.

7. Timecube - by Gene Ray
    - read here
    This guy is already famous with M.I.T. types. I've also heard web-designers actually say the phrase "...we were going for a kind of 'Timecube' feel to the site."

8. Santa = SATAN!? - by "Santa Lie"
    - read here
    Excruciatingly thorough. Much like American Spy Cows this one is a little hard to pinpoint... but he(?) seems pretty adamant. I would love to hear one of the tapes.

9. The Army of God
    - see here
      Paul Hill, the anti-abortionist who was recently executed in Florida for the shooting murder of Dr. John Britton, was a devout member of the Army of God. Take a stroll around the AOG website. Not for the weak stomach-ed... or the WEAK IN SPIRIT!!! STAND UP SOLDIER!!! WE ARE AT WAR!!!

10. The Unabomber Manifesto (actual title: 'Industrial Society And Its Future') - by Theodore Kaczynski
    - read here
    Why argue with a classic? Why not go out with one? Perhaps the only person on this list to actually get his philosophy completely out to the society at large, Kaczynski's 35,000 word rant was printed in it's entirety in The Washington Post on September 19, 1995 (I wonder what the ad rates were for that day and those pages?) And all it took was... well... let's just say I know some writers who would be willing to do much more (or probably have) for that kind of recognition or ink.
    I heard a rumor sometime around the whole Unabomber capture and trial that Exene Cervenka of the legendary punk band X was planning on putting out a 5 CD spoken-word box set with her reading the Unabomber Manifesto (in her trademark style, no doubt) on the left channel and canned roller rink music on the right channel. What became of this idea, or if it was in fact real, I don't know. I would have bought one.

Mark Allen's Top Three
Things for November 10th, 2003:

1. Musicology's examination of abandoned grain silos and it's pathways into space/time distortion via the inner-ear
    The User: "Abandon" CD (2003, Asphodel)

    The power of music and recorded sound is occasionally remarkable... and worthy of psychoanalytic study. There are few recordings that can tap into your inner sense of spatial awareness... alter it... or perhaps double it... and make even the most cramped set of walls and ceiling that you are experiencing it in feel like an arena, or perhaps even the outdoors. Some recordings, when listening to them, can make even a cramped coffin seem like it's simultaneously a beautiful, breezy wide-open field (I guess, for the record, there is also some recorded music that when listening to it can make a wide open field seem like a cramped coffin - but I don't really feel like talking about Clear Channel right now).
    There are probably lots of examples of this kind of phenomenon... and one's own personal experiences with art and culture probably makes their list of such recordings (and agreement on or even awareness of) different from everyone else's. My list? Off the top of my head... Brain Eno's "Ambient #4: On Land" is probably the masterpiece of this genre... Sonic Youth's "Silver Sessions For Jason Knuth" also comes to mind. There are others... I just can't think of them right now.
    Well I've just discovered another one. A really good one. It's by a collective who call themselves The User, and was created by placing microphones inside and all over a giant field of abandoned grain silos in a remote area of Canada. You can read all about the process here. But read my brilliant analogy first!!!
    Have you seen the Billy Wilder film "Sunset Boulevard"? Trust me I'm going somewhere with this analogy. You know near the beginning of the film, when James Holden's character has wandered into Nora Desmond's creepy old mansion... and after encountering the dead baboon Nora leads him down to the enormous living room... and you head that weird... distant wind in the background that sounds faintly like a circus? And Nora says "'s the wind howling through that old pipe organ over there! I've been meaning to have the whole thing removed... but I haven't... so the wind just keeps blowing through the old pipes day and night!" and the camera pans over to the giant, un-used pipe organ... and the scene just keeps playing out and getting more and more bizarre... and the weird... distant... organ-y... feedback-y... mildly circus-y sounds drifting back and forth... occasionally behind the dialogue... sometimes in front of it... makes a scene inside a dark ballroom, with a has-been nutcase in a headwrap, and a bald fat butler who looks like a corpse, and a baboon upstairs on a padded and beaded massage table that is a corpse (the baboon not the massage table), and dust all over what looks like a hardcore antique fag's orgasm of a mansion... even spookier?
    You know what I'm talking about? Well... that sound...
     ...wait... where was I?
    Oh yea... well this CD by The User sounds like that spooky feeling. Yet calmer and less bleak. More reassuring and circularly-radiant-spacial-expanding. Yes that's a real term... I know because I just made it up.
    So if you're into this kind of "stuff" - I highly recommend this CD. Why go outside when you can create it inside your head?
   Note: I originally discovered this great work of sound art via the lovely and hilarious Pseu Braun, and her Friday night radio show on If you'd like to hear the 20-minute clip of the track she played... go here and click on the November 7th, 2003 show (it's at the 2:38:02 mark).

2. Battery-operated hushing-up of the "s" and the "th" to the dismay of fag hags everywhere
    MORE INVENTIONS THEY SHOULD INVENT: A sound device that would drown out the lisped "s" and "th" sounds that all (ok... many) fags make
    What better way to follow an obvious fag's comparison of a conceptual, brainy sound art piece to fucking "Sunset Boulevard" for fuck's sake (Jesus fucking Christ!)... than an imagined sound invention... imagined... no, needed... wanted... by me. This battery-operated device would act similar to a white noise machine... and could be worn on the head (modeled above by my wonderful drawing). The left channel would emit a constant lisp-ed "th" sound and the right channel would emit a constant lisp-ed "sss" sound. The effect of this would be to drown out all the lisp'ed "th" and "sss" sounds in fag's speech... well if you would want to do that. It works in the same way that a white noise machine drowns out the sounds of people's farts in a shrink's' waiting room.
    I mean let's face it... not all gay guys talk like that (I thertainly don't thank you very muchth!) but there are some who do. I was on the uptown 6 train the other day. It was rush hour and pretty crowded. anyway... amongst all the talking and clattering of tracks and recorded announcements... I kept hearing this really random "sss" sound... like someone on the other end of the car was letting air out of a bike tire in little occasional spurts. So I kept poking my head ... looking down there... trying to see through everybody's legs and coats... to see what that awful goddamn sound was. I couldn't see! God it was annoying! "Sssss..... (blank silence) ...ssss... (silence) ...sss..." Finally when I craned my neck strategically way over some lady's open copy of The New York Post... I spied the cause of the sound. It was some QUEEN. I typed it in all capital letters because that was what he was. An all-capital letter QUEEN. He was Asian and... oh god I can't even describe his demeanor... let's just say his persona made Bobby Trendy look like fucking  Donald Rumsfeld for Christ's sake. Anyway... I have no problem with guys like this ...or dooooo I ???(said with a head-tilted back Nora Desmond face) But this QUEEN's "s" sounds were so strong that THEY WERE TRAVELING DOWN THE LENGTH OF A CROWDED MOVING SUBWAY CAR WITHOUT ANY OTHER OF THE SOUNDS IN HIS SPEECH MAKING IT THAT FAR!!! THAT'S HOW PRONOUNCED THEY WERE! He was talking to someone at a normal voice level all the way at the other end and all I heard was the "s" sounds... over and over and over... I prayed for the moving car to crash and kill us all in a fiery death right then and there. But since it didn't I decided to think constructively and came up with this very handy invention. I'm sure it will be all the rage. Patent pending.
    See how my invention (illustrated wonderfully above) literally switches the moods of the average heterosexual girl and the prone-to-faghag-ness type personality heterosexual girl? Oh but one thing... watch out boys... the device is battery operated! Make sure you pack lots of extra AA batteries when you wear this thing out to your next night on the town... or family wedding... or whatever... because... well you all know what happened to fucking Cinderella when she wasn't paying attention at the ball and the clock stroke midnight!!! Her carriage turned into a pupkin, her gown into rags... and she was exposed as the OLD MAID she really was! Horrors!!! Maybe get some lithium batteries.
   I just think my new invention is the most wonderful thing to happen to NYC since the smoking ban. I'm gonna build a prototype and start wearing it around town right this very minute.

3. "Wunksieville? Hello there Wunksieville? Can you hear me? I'd like to hear 'Come, Josephine In My Flying Machine' please!"
    Turns out there was a P2P music sharing-like device way back when computers were still called "Electronic Brains"

    Fascinating story of a P2P (kind-of) music-sharing device way back at the beginning of the 20th century (this time the telephone being the Satan-spawned machinery that spread such wanton theft and criminal-ness). I found this a very interesting read... considering all the RIAA-related madness going on.

Mark Allen's Top Eight
Things for November 24th, 2003:

Eight stabbing-ly blunt poetic odes to New York City life, brought to you by Mark Allen:
(if anyone else would like to help me make sure Shakespeare keeps spinning in his grave faster and faster forever and ever, feel free to scribble your own poem about city life and email it to me - and I will put it up... and be sure to pay NO ATTENTION WHATSOEVER to the rules of iambic pentameter, much like I haven't)
(11/27/03) NOTE: submissions sent so far are below my eight.

1. Free Public Transportation
I'm zooming uptown, to the Bronx and Tribeca, In seconds flat
Without a taxi, rollerblades, bike, limo or propeller hat!
You ask yourself "Now just how can he do that?"
A futuristic form of transportation? Oh indeed it's something quite new!
I'm doing nothing more than sliding... on fresh dog doo!

2. Subway Line Stopper
There was an old lady, who moved too slow... and held up a line
She was stopped at the top of the stair... coming out of train #9
Lady, there's foot traffic behind you! We're running behind!
I took my Weed Whacker... right to the back of her hair... *whizzz* - her head twisted right off... why just look at it sail!
"You're Hero of the Line!"... they all did hurriedly declare... but I never got where I was going... because now I'm in jail!

3. Debutante Hair Problem
Oh Upper East Side princess... gorgeous and 22
Oh Upper East Side princess... trust funded and Jew-eled
Chanel suits, Clinique skin and patent leather shoes
Still a teenager really... attending debutante balls 'till you're silly...  one after another and another and another...
These society galas however, left you with a hairstyle not so clever... why it's just like my dear old grandmother's!

4. Gay Pakistani Taxi Driver
On the late night shift and on the prowl... he's the gay, horny, taxi-driving Pakistani
His cab searches for single drunk boys, stumbling out of fairy bars... it's quite uncanny!
His taxi will search, through every West Village nook and cranny... for young boy fanny!
Married with kids in Brooklyn... his allegiance to his religion is quite devout!
Though one day he'll make a grope at the wrong passenger... and get his lights punched out!

5. Homeless Art Star
Crazy homeless smelly man... covered in flies, loitering on my block
Crazy homeless smelly man... sore to the eyes, screaming at 4 o'clock
You smell like the sewers of Hell... you keep your Nighttrain bottle in a sock
I took a digital photograph... that morning as on my front door you did smear your feces upon
Now I'm interviewed in Index magazine... because that photograph is being exhibited in Milan!

6. Olfactory Map
I have a new map... a brand new sense of direction, to navigate around the city
It's available to anyone with five senses, but only in the warm weather really
Why you could use it even if you were blind and deaf... oh it's actually rather silly
When the sun hit's Manhattan's garbage piles... why it's easy to find one's way for miles and miles... to figure out to where one goes!
How to get to Carnegie Hall? Straight at rancid shrimp shells, left at the old folk's dirty diapers... just follow, follow, follow your nose!

7. Subway Token Sucker
Farewell subway token sucker... you had the oral suction of a nuclear powered vacuum
Farewell subway token sucker... the regulated Metro Card was your financial doom
How many nights did you lurk in dark corners, waiting for metal tokens to consume?
The Fox News lady covered your slimy story on the news... with the usual wincing and dismay
Though we agree, in analyzing your oral thievery ...Sigmund Freud would have had a field day!

8. Pill Dealer
Pill dealer, pill dealer... bring your magic dots... you're the latest delivery craze
Pill dealer, pill dealer... your cell is ringing lots... and all of downtown's in a haze
First weed, then coke, then smack, ecstasy, crystal meth and GHB were all the rage
Now thanks to a crooked doctor connection, and your pharmacy skeleton key collection
A xanax/percodan/oxycontin/klonopin salad... is every New Yorker's delightful new choice, of lobotomized confection!

The always entertaining Zilla sent:
"Stole my wallet"

Day after Thanksgiving
and I can not shop!
You stole my wallet
and bought yourself some gas.
That was my money mother fucker

Preston sent:
Noo Yawk Sittie (take 10, 1969)

Just another East Side Story

  wet night on East 96th.
"Oh please.  Open the goddam door,
Dennis, oh Dennis...
I know you are in there!!"
To the door naked he stood, pill in hand..

"Have a hot date here. Open your mouth!"
shoving a green pill at it, with a smirk:

"Now go have a good time."  the door slamming in my face.... Fuck!

Dejected, walking down Second past those Irish Hungarian places
New Buda-pest velvet drapes cheep glassy chandelier

the hustlers at 59th looking hungry in pain and despair

down to brownstone Murray Hill almost to Gramercy.

things started happening as the drug took hold
the lights started dancing on the wet pavements cold
the cars zoomed by at breakneck speeds
like galavanting elephants chomping on reeds

My newly wed friends let me in
gave me some beer.  I confessed my confusion (read "sin")
and took off my clothes..  they seemed not necessary any more....
A flash of light from nowhere at all
(years later showed me the photo to recall)

I guess they got them back on me, my pants, and sent me home
walking through stained glass jewelry encrusted wet
rain reflecting cathedral scape city.....
. Parvis to nave to choir...  to ambulatory home
A night I would as soon forget....

Mark Allen's Top Zero
Things for November 17th, 2003:
(you decide)
Copyright 2003 Mark Allen

    Sorry folks, I'm too busy working on some actual paying (gasp!) writing gigs to do a "Top Ten" this week. But if anyone wants to send anything they have written, or photos or links or whatever they'd like to share... I'd be happy to put it up. Keep 'em coming!

Rem sent this brilliant link to weblog-er Maciej Ceglowski's ( stories and tips for people who log onto metaphysical-themed message boards and chat rooms and claim to have traveled through time and then try to dazzle people with their supposed experiences. It's called "Best Practices for Time Travelers"

Jamie sent me this link to an eBay auction for the house you always wanted to live in, in beautiful Connecticut. Yes, it's the house that "Friday the 13th part 2" was filmed in. Amy Steel in the closet brandishing a pitchfork optional.

Gabe sent this interesting text/sound link that he thinks everyone should experience

Xavier sends a link to State Farm's "Ten Most Dangerous Driving Intersections In the U.S."

Brock writes:

To whom it may concern:

Be forewarned! I am on to you. It has bothered me for a while now that I have had few responses to e-mail I have sent to MarkAllenCam, and now I must inform you, I have shrewdly deduced the reason(s) why: Mr. AllenCam is either being held captive or is no longer alive! I plan to expose this cover-up and thereby end one mans suffering, allowing him to freely live again, or allow his mischievous soul to journey unfettered wherever it will next. Ah Ha! I can sense the panic you are feeling at this moment, and can only say this dastardly scheme was bound to be uncovered sooner or later, even by one less Holmes-like than me.

Perhaps it would be impressive for me to explain how I have come to believe that one or the other is the case. Very well, pay attention, as my fiercely logical mind and typing skills will wait for no lolly-gagger to catch up.

At first I was fooled by the daily changing of a web cam pic on Mr. Allencam's page. Then it occurred to me that with the many programs available at present to even the dullest of persons, an archived webcam capture can easily be modified so as to appear to be a different picture entirely. Many of the pictures I have seen, of late, have clearly been modified! How do I know this? For example, some of the pictures contain at least two exact likenesses of Mr. Allencam within the very same picture. As Mr. Allencam has no twin brother it is elementary to therefore suspect image editing. Furthermore, it is common knowledge that Mr. Allencam has a slight balding of the head, which no man can fault, as it only suggests the maturity gained through honest and noble deep thinking; the hair follicles here become stressed through proximity to constant brain activity and commonly vacate the area, much as a footpath is worn by constant contact with treading feet. The recently dated images show a man with an apparent full head of hair, such that no comb-over could truly misrepresent.

Consider too, that of all the e-mail I have created and, with best intent, forwarded to Mr. Allencam, only one has been directly answered by (him?). Suspiciously, the e-mail I originally sent and the same one (he?) answered was sent by me through the link provided on the site page, and not through the "compose and send e-mail" option available to me utilizing a noble, though sometimes mysterious, technology. This very same technology which faithfully and constantly delivers munificent opportunities to my inbox to further increase my male-specific appendageĒs length and girth (I ask you aside, how much more is enough for affection's sake?) as well as generous offers to assist Nigerian ministry members shift great sums of money from one place to another while concurrently bettering my own financial status. (Now that I think of it, the greater sum of my e-mail received deal with the subject of members of one sort or another.) At any rate, the point I am rapidly approaching is that I have only seen e-mail I have sent through that suspicious page link bear fruit of any sort whatsoever; a link which I suggest is provided and controlled by you, the individual or group that has somehow gained access, and therefore control, over Mr. Allencam's site and then, I hereby accuse, the person of Mr. Allencam. Any e-mail sent directly from my composer to Mr. Allencam's receipt box have either been ignored or waylaid for some presently uncertain reason.

I furthermore present, to make you all atremble (such as milk sickness will do), another clue you have recently, and through no desire on your part I'm sure, provided me. A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Allencam appeared to encourage e-mail being sent directly to the New York State DCJS, accusing him of being a sex offender!!!! Are you so certain you will have your pudding if you donĒt eat your meat, that you have gotten THIS sloppy? I suggest you return to the main of your meal and eat what you must. Mr. Allencam never has and never will be a sex offender. Take that to a Nigerian bank account for redirected funds and count on it to be there, awaiting your future co-control! He is a decent God-fearing man who even now awaits my relocation to NYC, with such move resulting in our marriage or common law dedication to one another.

I am sure you are suddenly surprised to suspect that this situation has much the same type protagonist as Bram Stoker's Dracula, with myself first as a Professor Van Helsing type, and then as a deceptively unsophisticated and slightly unattractive (I play against my true cute as a button-ness with applied latex and grease paint often for the growth potential) Mina Murray. My dearest shall not remain imprisoned, no matter whether he is quick or dead.

In addition I find it highly suspect that the Top Ten, which I peruse faithfully, often concludes somewhat short of ten items, and even when it does contain the whole of ten, they tend to only mount up to ten as the week progresses. Why would these events pull at my elbow like a poorly mannered snot-nosed child and implore me to take notice? Because Mr. Allencam is a tireless writer and a man of his word; if he promises ten items, then by God man, or men, or woman, or women, or man and woman, or men and woman, or men and women, or man and women you can expect to see ten items, not four or six, and you can expect them promptly on Monday (often before noon and seldom after six at night.) Additionally, some of the compositions have alluded to prizes for the best responses to, or guessing games made possible by, one Top Ten item or another. The sticky wicket of it is that I have yet to hear of a single participant receiving a prize for his or her effort, in spite of the fact that winners have been chosen and acknowledged as such. Only a scoundrel would promise prizes and then fail to present them. Mr. Allencam is no scoundrel and so, I ask you, how much are you enjoying the exclusive use and ownership of these ill-gotten prizes?

Another bone of contention, or perhaps, no bone for contentment, is the peculiar position of Mr. Allencam in that he suddenly does not like to be asked, nor does he even avail himself freely of the opportunity to appear completely disrobed and his image thusly photographed for the carnal but surely wholly (and perhaps even Holy) natural desire of his readership to view at itĒs leisure. This closed-handed disavowal of anotherĒs well-meant desire to see him completely sans modest covering is unjust; as such a desire cannot rightly be construed as lecherous or immoral. I myself have even requested, as could be witnessed by any reader of particular Top Ten entries, that Mark offer for my scientific and artistically motivated ocular satisfaction an image, or a few, of him completely unashamed and full frontal with nothing but skin and perhaps a bone apparent: Even dogs should be rewarded such, intermittently. Having admitted this, I have always respected his right to honor such a request only if he does so joyfully and freely. I have the special certainty of realizing that soon I will be able to enjoy such a sight frequently, and with the enviable weight of the law of marriage behind me anyway, so what care I momentarily? What unambiguously affects me is that I have heard stories claiming Mr. Allencam has not only disrobed on his cam in the knowable past, but by his own written admission was a go-go boy; an exotic dancer as it were, for several clubs in the NYC area. Does this sound like a man who is shy or prudish? If not, then the only explanation remaining is that Mr. Allencam is being held captive and the only cam capture you might get of him, offered to minimize suspicion, would need to be taken secretly while he sleeps, or forcefully; and even then, some aspect of his manner would surely belie his desire to pose for such.

Sir, or Sirs, or Madam, or Madams, or Sir and Madam, or Sirs and Madams, or Sir and Madams, or Sirs and Madam, etc (I think), be advised: I am an intelligent and capable man! Why else would the aforementioned Nigerian Ministry seek me out to assist them with creating bank accounts for the honest shifting about of monies? I continue to sleuth out clues to support my suspicions and with only the clues I have brought to light thus far, I am able to make such assumptions that might threaten your very liberty, but will certainly cause you to doubt your ability to continue this outrage of unjust subterfuge. You are violating Mr. AllencamĒs civilized rights plain and simple. Bear with me a moment while I repeat that last sentence word for word, for emphasis, to demonstrate my anger, which is beyond any hope of escaping: - You suck, and badly too!

So we find ourselves at a point whereby one of two solutions must be undertaken. In the first my suspicions must be validated, and if so, may you pray to receive greater compassion than you have shown Mr. Allencam. In the second choice, if Mr. Allencam is an unencumbered individual solely in control of his actions (or the lack thereof) I offer the following be undertaken to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, his uncontestable liberty: Send to me by return e-mail or mount as an item in a near future Top Ten, an image front-on of Mark Allencam wearing nothing else save chaps, a beret and a pink feather boa (trailing down his back and not his front.) Needless to say, I am wise to your camera trickery and will actively examine the offered likeness passionately for any sign of lack of exactness, or resultant animation, which could reasonably be expected to be represented with the donning of such gear. What I wear or do not wear, while doing so is not of your concern!

The first solution would entail that you confess to me - and the internet in general, your scheme and your guilty actions by admitting the whole of your actions resulting in his confinement and subsequent actions relating to admitted containment, and then setting free poor Mr. Allencam. Let me point out that he is not a well man and means no man or men or woman or women (etc, for sure) harm, and never has. I would finally say this to you in order to inspire your cooperation: If we could hear the single prevailing sound present at the center of the universe, it would be the sound one makes while in the throes of sexual ecstasy. Please set Mr. Allencam free so he may once more tease this sound out of his reader/viewer with whatever inexact and imperfect technique he is willing or capable of using.

Yours most expertly and suspiciously,
Sherlock Brock

Tony writes:

Dear Mark Allen,

As one of the,, dozens...okay, HANDFULS of obsessive weirdos who regularly, and inexplicably, follow the, um...writings..yes!  WRITINGS...of your intrically chaotic roadmap of a  web prescence popularly known as (de-emphasis on the "cam), I wish to register a complaint.

As one who has virtually no life, and whose highlights of any given week include determining the contents of my aged grandmother's spit-up and/or running across one of the "Serina" episodes of "Bewitched" on basic cable, I eagerly (again inexplicably) await the stuttered regularity of semi (very semi) weekly publication of "Mark Allen's Top Ten Things For...".

Imagine my dismay when I clicked the retina-burning red link only to find a castrated list of only three items! Humorous, and dead-on, musings and opinions as they may be, one can't help but wonder whether the truncated roster is not an indicator of other aspects of Mr. Allen's personailty.  While he lures you with the anticipation of 10 items only to deliver a paltry three, does it also follow that the delicious sexual delights a smoking hot bodacious body like his conjures up would in reality be served up as a warm pudding...runny and bland and in desperate need of some spice?

Perhaps the infinite hours of raw heat one would expect his dimpled smile (that morphs into a vacuum-filled casm from which springs a python-like tongue)  and pillowy ass to promise would only amount to a mere "ungh, ungh, what do we do now?"

Continue to blow us away with your top Ten...not three,  not six,..not eight.  TEN. Please Mr. Allen, no more listus interuptus.


Other things people have sent:

Rich sent this link about a photo book of nuclear bomb explosions he recently purchased for a friend

Bill sent this link of some Japanese artist's fetish about shrinking women (click on the 'Shrinking Woman' and 'Dark Zone' boxes on the left)

Joel from France sent an animated thing where you can shoot at a picture of me in my Grand Dragon KKK Thanksgiving outfit - with a bloody machine gun (part of his bigger Fire Escape site)

An anonymous person sent a message saying "You tease...... could you post one good sexy photo of you flexing????? Hubba!!!!!!!"

Ben sent his summary of Camille Paglia's guest appearance on a Matt Drudge-hosted Rush Limbaugh's radio show (who was in rehab) last Wednesday (11/12), because he was sure I was going to write about it (I indeed tuned in and was going to write about it). Ben sums it up humorously and states:
    "America's number one conservative Republican radio show was guest hosted (for the main host who was in drug rehab for synthetic heroin addiction) by a closeted gay man who in turn had an out lesbian, porn-loving, post-feminist as a guest! Who would'a thunk it!?"

Scott Waterman sent a link to his site with works about his 50 favorite artists

Larry wrote in to let me know my cam images of late remind him of the film "Jacob's Ladder" and wondered if I had seen it. (answer: thanks, and yes)

Francis wrote in to ask when I was going to put up the next installment in my "Wallace Langham Daydream" piece and asked if I had seen Langham in the film "The Chocolate War" (answers: soon, and yes)

Kyle from San Francisco called and left a message on my home telephone answering machine (yet again) and pretended to be a very official-sounding representative from American Express. His message stated:
    "Good afternoon. I'm calling to speak to Mr. Mark Allen. This is Christopher Glenn with American Express. I needed to speak to you about your account balance. Um... we've been doing some... brainstorming... and we've come up with an idea where you could possibly choose to work for us in advertising... print ads. But... uh, there couldn't be any racist material included. Please give us a call back at (415) ___-____. Thank you."

Paul sent along this fascinating link from the Columbia Journalism Review that lists what major media companies own - surprising stuff!

Phillip sent me a link to this great Swedish site that "sings" any words you type into it - using samples of those words from popular songs. It's hi-LAAAR-eee-us!

Gregory sent me a link to a whole categorized page of Disturbing Auctions

Ed sent me a link to photographer Michael Meads' photographs of deep south stuff and also guys. Ed just emailed me again and told me he found it on Fleshbot, which he also likes.

Carnie sent a link to The Shrine to Don Knotts which, I am of course more than too happy to share

David sent me this shocking link where some guy is selling bootleg copies of the original 1970's documentary "The Trip Back" ...which is about Florrie Fisher, a 50 year old ex-con junkie whore who goes to high schools and lectures kids about the horrors of drug use ...this is the exact film that inspired the makers of "Strangers With Candy" (they talk about it all the time in interviews). She looks exactly like Jerri (or is that the other way around?)

Copyright 2003 Mark Allen
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