"There was an article in the LA hippie paper about a confrontation between two local guru types in MacArthur Park. Their followers--by this time, there were tens of thousands of young and not-so-young people following hundreds of self-styled gurs du jour, from Mei Lyman to Charles Manson--were looking for a peace and love-style version of the old west shoutout on Main Street. Both would-be avatars were about thirty. One was swaddled head to toe in robes, diffraction gradings, body paint, beads and peacock feathers. The other one was completely naked, except for an incense-on-a-stick-thingie that he had stuck up his asshole and lit. It had gone out.
The two avatars faced each other, smiling.
'You're beautiful, man,' said one.
'No, man,' said the other. 'You're beautiful.'
'No, I'm not,' came the reply. 'You're beautiful.'
'No, brother. You're the one who's beautiful.'
'I think I'm going to throw up,' said one of the cops.
Doomed as doomed can be."
-Peter Stampfel
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