"Groovy, baby - like man, the place is really wigging out."

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He takes the mike from the stand.

"Wow! Look at all that Blue. Is there anyone out there that's not a policeman? Ah - I uh, seem to be under a little pressure tonight to cool my act. See I was arrested on this stage a few nights ago for saying an eleven-letter word. I'm not going to repeat the word tonight, but - it starts with a c and ends with a g. Now they said it was a favorite homosexual practice, I don't relate that word to homosexuals. It relates to any woman I know or would know or would love or would marry. All right - their whole scene was that Dirty Lenny said a dirty word. So anyway. I'd like to ask you a few questions. Now let's get really honest. You sir, have you ever had your blah blahhed?"

The guy's cool. Maybe he doesn't come out and say so but he's smiling.

"O.K., how many other guys in this room have had their blah blahhed?"

The judge ought to be there - not an obscene word all night.

Maybe eight hands in the air, but not one cop. Lenny gives one the stare. "Comeon now officer - you're under oath remember," and his people are getting their own back. "O.K. Lady, what about you? Did you ever blah a blah?"

Oh boy, does she do a freeze. She looks at the soles on her shoes and waits for Samson to pull out the pillars. Nevermind, the guy with her breaks out a big affirmative nod, and the crowd goes bananas.

"You know, I think I'm doing the dirtiest show in my life. Now, if anyone here has found this obscene, then you're full of blah, and I hope you never get your blah blahhed again."

He's pulled it off.

the accounting was filled with as much fantasy as the novels themselves

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Editor, Daily News,

Well, now that the forces of decency have finally asserted themselves in the case of the movie, “Lorna,” I feel it’s my Christian duty to alert the citizenry to the same type of degenerate smut that exists in our public library: not in Greenwich Village or other places of sin and iniquity, but right here in good old Lebanon, PA. Well, here we are fortunate enough to have a newspaper which fights on the side of good and righteousness. The book to which I refer is “Candy,” by Terry Southern. Now, I haven’t personally read this book, but a friend told me that it is the worst sort of smut he has ever put his eyes upon, and is an abomination to every God-fearing individual. Innocent children, into whose hands this book might possibly fall, would be done great harm by reading it. They are always the ones who are hurt, our young people. To imagine that it is allowed in our public library is difficult to understand. The atheists, fellow travelers, communists, and communist dupes who write this sort of thing should not be allowed a place in our community. Christians, unite in this great season we are now enjoying and purge these atheistic elements from our midst.

The Holy Warrior

The Beatles can do a much better job than the Archbishop of Canterbury

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Permission is 'Fanny Hill' available only in an expensive edition. Permission is the deportation of Lenny Bruce, the Home Office file on Stokely Carmichael. Permission is still - Please sir, may I leave the room, sir? Permission implies the wisdom of an officially appointed elder brother. Permission satisfies only the powerful (who don't need it) and the timid (who ask little else from life). The permissive society is only a stage in the real, long, bloody struggle for freedom. It's easy to forget that every piece of liberty we own has been won in the struggle between the people and the ruling classes. Even the right to be cremated had to be fought for, at length, in the nineteenth century ... People are still refused admission to hotels, restaurants and so on because they wear the wrong kind of hair or clothes. For the same offences you can still be beaten up in the car park behind a pub, which is one of the reasons that the hippies prefer their own clubs. Very few of the boutique owners are anything to do with the Underground. They are part of the ancient commercial scene. They belong to the nation of boutique owners which Napoleon jeered at. The American Diggers, whose shops are crammed with free gifts and have nothing for sale, are playing a different and liberty ­loving game.

royal pimps and headless men and naked Ministers in masks

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It was appropriate that the most blatant rebellion against law and order in 1964 should be merely the day-long unauthorised broadcasting of pop records from a rusty hulk moored ten miles off the coast. Throughout the month of April, the country waited in mounting suspense to see what the Government would do to terminate such unauthorised invasion of the airwaves. The Post Office cut off Caroline's ship-to-shore telephone. The Customs Officials did as much as possible to hinder intercourse with the ship. The Foreign Office lodged a protest with the Government of Panama, where the Caroline was registered. Four days later, when Radio Atlanta also began transmission, the prospect of a whole armada of pirates massed round Britain's shores elevated the problem briefly into major political importance. As May drew to a close, 'Screaming Lord Sutch', a pop singer from North London, set sail with a trawlerful of leopard-skinned acolytes, took possession of a disused army fort on Shivering Sands in the Thames Estuary and announced a round-the-clock service of Sutch classics, spiced with readings from Lady Chatterley's Lover.

you don't know if we're parodying you or you're parodying us anymore

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I will indulge in Obscenity, for I will ruin & destroy all class distinctions in Language. Language of the lower strata is Obscene to the bourgeoisie. Language of their own class is Art to the bourgeoisie. If speaking & writing in the total FREE LANGUAGE of the ENTIRE SOCIETY leads to the saintliness labeled by the money-suckers as "depravity & corruption" I WILL DEPRAVE & CORRUPT MAN TO SANITY. Usage of sex in any manner in Literature is declared Obscene by money-sucking high-income vampires because they want legal & social apparatus to exterminate their enemy with utmost atrocity so that sex could not be used ever otherwise as capital. I will deliberately write what the bourgeoisie call Obscene to ruin & destroy the treatment of sex as capital. The bourgeoisie claim that man & society gets "depraved & corrupted" after reading a particular book or poem in which sex is normalized, because they know that even the psychiatrist who comes out of the political asshole would not call masturbation & extra-marital copulation "depravity & corruption" or in any way anti-social. I will write in whatever manner I like and immerse my thoughts in the entire vocabulary of mankind. Poetry should have in its armor anything & everything that Life includes. 

You aren't "liberating" Vietnam. When you "liberate" a village do the people come out laughing, with flowers? Do the girls run up to kiss you? When was the last time you got laid without paying for it? When was the last time a girl said she liked you without wanting piastres? When did you pay an honest price for your drinks in the bars? They say the army makes a man out of you. By now you know better. The army just tries to make a robot out of you. A killing machine. What is a man? Is there something really "manly" about being able to stick a bayonet into a man's belly? There isn't a damn thing about killing that is "manly." If you are really "manly" you don't have to hit women who march in peace demonstrations — you can be gentle. If you are afraid of being gentle then you aren't ready yet to be a man. Your cock makes you a man, not your gun. And, friend, if you confuse your cock with your gun you are really in trouble.

his night-club act used unscrubbed words that are common gutter patois

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If a kid watches films and TV and cannot identify with education; where it's un-hip to learn or doesn't smack of any virility, then it's sort of a drag. Now, Jack Paar is a classic case of the mass media. He feels, like a lot of sub-intellects, that the matter with Adlai Stevenson was that he was too much of an intellect. Next to him - Hugh Downs, an obsequious, over-solicitous toughie-slicker who's always layin' there dead. He goes, like, "Uh, uh, what is that word, Hugh?"

"That word is non sequitur, Jack."

"Ha, ha! Hugh knows all the big words, boys and girls. He never gets laid, though, ha, ha haaa! Ya see, boys and girls, if ya wanna really shtup the broads, ya gotta be a big honest dunce."

That's why the Russians orbit the Moon first, because education is the answer, okay? If you're looking for that strength, you gotta nurture it along. You can't have Jack Paar, with kids watching him, going like, "Uh, you don't want to get hung up with any big words or any education, man."

strenuous parties with wild non-stop dancing to twist and stomp music

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Mick Farren stormed into the marquee and demanded that all food stocks be distributed to the masses. He demanded that Pepsi and Birds Eye donate their entire on-site warehouse to the crowds, in return for a favourable mention in his next speech. As a ‘symbolic act of protest against élitism’, the alliance agreed to carry out a joint assault on the main fence. From the stage, meanwhile, the harried MC kept preaching peace and love and the spirit of Woodstock. The insurrection erupted at 10 a.m., led by two French anarchists with a battering ram. ‘Zeeze kids are being toe-tally controlled by zooperpigs,’ one of them yelled, thumping at the sheets of iron. ‘Ex-source-sted, wretchyard, sleeping in zee pissoirs . . . Zeeeze kids are worse than zeee Jews, at least zeee fuck’n Jews didn’t pay to go to Auschwitz . . .’ Crash! The corrugated iron caved in. Two Angels, a Panther and a Young Liberal squeezed into the arena, where, to their astonishment, the oppressed masses joined the security guys and their Alsatians in chucking them out and repairing the breach.