In Print

Some PDFs of Reviewer Magazine, as a free published newspaper-magazine (R.I.P.), in print:
















Russian Presidential Election Interference


“Meddling Kids”

Election manipulation by Putin, a thing of humor and satisfaction for our mainstream media?

by Reviewer Rob

from Intargam

Maybe our American mainstream news media really isn’t just one monolithic industry with one tight-knit cabal controlling it. Maybe it’s not significant that the only real use of the word “meddling” in popular culture here was by cartoon villains after they’ve had their plans disrupted, or “foiled,” by crafty heroes. But the word “disruption” was a perfectly suitable name for the alleged Russian cyber spywork in our recent presidential election. Even “interference” was good since it had already been entrenched via sports jargon. Yet all the big news outlets suddenly, and in unison, have chosen to to latch on to the use of this other arcane descriptive. I just ask, why?

#why #russianmeddling — in San Diego, California.

Scooby Doo’s meddling kids.

Hannah Haddix Magyk Tutorial

Hannah Haddix, in the back of the Reviewervan preparing to go into a Victoria's Secret for a shoot.

Hannah Haddix, in the back of the Reviewervan preparing to go into a Victoria’s Secret for a shoot.

[Alternative Education]

Magic Mystic Maiden

sex magic instruction along the coast highway

“There is no art without magic, and there is no magic without art.”

story and Reviewer TV video by Reviewer Rob

As you may know by now, dear reader, I have a thing for shooting art nude photos and video. The females that model for these are by definition exceptional but sometimes you meet one that distinguishes herself from the rest. Hannah Haddix is one such distinguished woman.

I had originally come to know of this art model and performance artist from her work as a magus in the Coyotel Church, a Seattle religious organization that she describes unashamedly as a “cult” and because she was posting nude art photos of herself on Facebook of all places from rituals in this cult.

Sometimes you meet an art model who is more than a pretty face and body. You find out they know some interesting things that you don’t. This woman is such a unique figure.

Hannah is actually quite a teacher-type and was very generous with her knowledge of “sex magic” (sex magyk?) and while driving on the Pacific Coast Highway through Los Angeles County from Malibu to Santa Monica between art-video shoots she was willing to describe the proper ceremony ritual technique for Reviewer TV (i.e. my camera).

Watch the videos and learn something, and if you want to see more of Hannah you can catch her on Facebook or at her new website,

Meeting Hannah Haddix:

Meeting Hannah Haddix, Occult Witch & Fetish Performer from Reviewer on Vimeo.

Then there’s the sex magyk lesson
(only verbal, non-explicit):

Sex Magyck, a Tutorial by Fetish model Hannah Haddix of Psychic TV from Reviewer on Vimeo.

Dame Darcy in an Arizona border town

Dame Darcy in Bisbee, Arizona. Click HERE or on the picture for the photo gallery.


Getting Bisbee

Visiting the historic old mining town of the Wild West with our favorite cartoonist witch as your tour guide

story and pictures by Dame Darcy for Reviewer

February 12, 2017

Perhaps named for the killer bees whose honey is as infamous as it is delicious. They are sturdy little desert creatures with long creepy legs. They will take over any dwelling in a matter of days.

They can kill a 150-pound peccary, an indigenous feral pig that runs in the desert biting things with its huge fangs. And if you leave even a little watering can out in the yard the bees will nest in there. They’re the spirit animals of the locals: creative, resourceful, weird.

Bisbee is the real deal. Bisbee, Tombstone, Saint David, and the little border towns, these are the Sky Islands. My witch sister just moved here.

I feel nostalgic. And this is only my second time in Bisbee. It reminds me of Bone Idaho where I lived as a kid on a ranch in the 70’s and 80’s.

I think this is the appeal for my sister too. She used to live in Idaho but is Jewish and from Philly, L.A., and even India.

So she fits in well with eclectic Bisbee. In big sky country the view is epic. Swirling massive clouds forever.

You can see the snow on the blue mountains miles away then closer another layer of jutting red and orange rock formations with some cactus and scrub brush. A primordial Vista that hasn’t changed in millions of years.

A timeless capsule. In the 1880’s The reign of the Copper Queen exploded the red hills into massive steps to rival ancient Egypt, and with it exploded the population of Bisbee.

Once 150,000 it was a bustling town of miners, cowboys, of all kinds, White, Mexican, Native American, black, Jewish. Not to mention the strange cults still operating in secret to this day.

And the booming brothels to accommodate everyone and cheer things up. Fences made from Victorian bed frames abound in this place showing where the old West brothels were.

Sold as souvenirs, we found tokens used by the ladies. The cash register in the store is from the 1800’s and originally only went up to $10.

This shows what a deal the miners got when for “$3 all night you could screw 8 ladies including 2 squaws!” Quite a claim for the copper coins, and horrifying in so many ways. All I know is the miners had a lot of energy.

Then Bisbee went bust and typhoid fever broke out. Diminishing the population of Bizbee to 5000.

Now there are beautiful decaying Victorian doll houses , steps leading to no where, past an art deco statue of a handsome man.

The use of corrugated steel and Tiffany stained glass both used to build a charming janky home built on what was once an ancient Indian burial ground then a haunted whore house.

Also you can live in a home literally made from a cave with a hot water spring in your backyard. All on the same winding little road, paved with a mix of cobblestones from re-purposed brick.

The miners, cowboys, and probably ladies of the night (or early evening, Bisbee closes early) are still here!

Along with artists hiding out and selling local hand made everything to themselves and visitors.

Everything I’ve seen here is re-purposed, home grown, vintage or hand made. It’s like an Old West version of Cuba.

Old cars from the 30’s, 50’s, and 70’s are parked randomly next to the barber with a red and blue pole with the hand painted sign. Same goes for all the food, clothing, furniture, and everything else.

Art, music, and weirdos of every stripe and age live here or drift through town.

Vintage is worn by Everybody here. Ladies in prairie bonnets for reals. I met about half a dozen folks who own ranches.

My theory is it’s because so much vintage and Victoriana was left over that now it’s just the usual fare of the general population.

I once thought my style was Japanese Lolita and random vintage. But I now know it’s homemade couture and Victorian cowgirl garb of Tombstone, Arizona.

I’ve been in Bisbee a week. The weather during the winter is very erratic. Because of this is the desert temperatures have gone from 80 degrees in the day in early February to below 40 at night.

This is a dry heat. And I highly suggest visitors stay hydrated. Many of the locals are at the median age of 60 and although they are spry, svelte, and rocking amazing white hair very trendy with today’s millennials, they are dried by the sun.

Being raised in the high desert of Idaho it’s a familiar feeling. Though one I will admit I had forgotten.

It’s raining now. And the sound of the rain on this large 100 year old house is very soothing. There was snow on Christmas and no other day.

The man who built this house was murdered in a water balloon fight across the street at the biker bar. And this house is haunted by him.

Basically he was a carpenter and transformed this beautiful old house into a duplex with skylights , stained glass, and interesting hardware.

It has its own cave under the Adobe veranda inlaid with ceramic Valentine hearts.

He died tragically, from a water balloon fight. Apparently, he was down the street when someone fired a water balloon from the balcony of what is now the art gallery into the biker bar.

A drunk biker came out of the biker bar, looking for the water balloon culprit. Seeing the carpenter the biker wrongly assumed it was him and stabbed him in the street. He died in 1980 and the place was full of bees until my witch sister moved in.

There were no maids to help her clean so she hired the local miners.

When I arrived in Bisbee my witch sister had her twin here visiting. They had met on the set of Carnival a decade ago.

My sister’s twin is a Hollywood actress and the daughter of a very unusual 60’s rock star. The reason they are twins and why they met is because Witch sister played the stunt double for the actress.

The role was a lady who was working as a carnival girl and ended up getting attacked by ghost miners.

My Witch sister is a fire eater, circus performing clown and contortionist. But now is a self made success story making hats and show girl facinators.

Hard core feminist as she is, she did a Jewish act during the Xmas season with a flaming menorah headdress. Also incorporating contortionist into her performance art act by eating light bulbs and lit up a florescent tube with her vagina.

Anyways she was the stunt vagina for the actress who in the Showtime TV series flipped upside down naked on stage before running off right before she got attacked by Ghost Miners.

Now seeing the two of them together in this ghost miners setting as a reunion location is two perfect. #twinning & #winning

When they drove me in the convertible to the border of Mexico in their identical floppy black hats and sunglasses I felt like I was in some wild West version of a Fellini film.

I was referred to the Mexico dentist by my friend Mark Hosler who invented the experimental music group Negativland.

The cost of a crown quoted to me in Savannah is $1200-$2600. And I needed 2 crowns and a filling totaling $6000.

In Mexico I got the work done for $1200. Total.

So the other main reason I came to Bisbee is to get my dental work done over the border in Mexico at a fraction of the price in America.

That is if you can handle parking in back of the Walmart, walking about 5 blocks up the long dusty path by the freeway through the border, and wait on the other side where all the signs are in Spanish.

The adorable young lady dental assistant came to pick me up in a little beat up 90’s Mazda. But Dr. Tostado does amazing work and has a beautiful fountain in the reception area.

I needed 2 days of 5 hour jaw bending and needles in my face to take care of the crowns and fillings.

Dr. Tostados dental work made my teeth look amazing and perfect. All porcelain! No metal mercury fillings for this Bitch!

Finally i had to go to Mexico to get my dental work done right with my new white privileged teeth. Because I certainly can not afford American white privilege.

Anyways, the toothless locals of Bisbee need to get hip to Dr. Tostado. He’s only a 20 minute drive away. If I lived here i would seriously go to Mexico once a week until all my teeth had glimmering veneers and every little flaw was fixed.

In Bisbee about a third of the population lives by squatting for free in the abandoned chipping Victorian doll houses and caves.

Then they eat for free every day where gourmet organic vegan meals are served in the court yard in front of the stock exchange. So they really should take advantage of the fact their busking money could easily fix a filling or two.

Dr. Tostado is a kind and patient dentist who apparently is also a nice landlord. Said the lady who I bought home grown squash from I met at the farmers market who rents from him.

I was showing off my new teeth there and apparently Everybody in town knows my dentist. He also owns a cattle ranch.

Dr. Tostado’s dental work comes highly recommended by yours truly. It’s much better than the work of Dr. Burrito, Dr. Gordita and Dr. Nachos. Though equally delicious.

Then we went to see Adam Ant in Tuscon. But that part of the story is so epic and emotional, that it needs its own whole other lengthy tome. Besides, it took place in Tuscon which is nothing compared to Bisbee.

Now the stars are out, the full moon lights up the gully. I shut my eyes and still see the endless sky as a owl echos in the distance. The dream of Bisbee is the same as the reality of Bisbee, epic and endless.

Love, Dame Darcy

Photo gallery HERE.

Brock Doom vs. apartment fire GoFundMe

“I Fought It”

by Reviewer Rob

Ramzi Abed, aka Brock Doom, is a film maker friend of ours in West Hollywood [In a Spiral State (2009), The Devil’s Muse (2007) and Clay Fields (2003)] who had a pretty bad run-in with an apartment electrical fire in his home recently.

WARNING: the graphic pictures of his serious injuries are HERE, HERE, and HERE. But DO NOT click to see them if you’re eating.

Ramzi said he was hanging out at home when he heard “a pop and then a whoosh,” in the closet where the electrical fuses are. Once he opened the door he grabbed a plastic trash can where the majority of the fire was enveloped and ran out the front door with it. “I fought it,” he said by way of explaining how his injuries occurred, and as the melting plastic covered the skin of his hands he threw the trash can outside onto bare concrete where nothing more could burn. But by then the damage was done. He thinks the melted plastic was combined with electrical burns since there was current running through the fire, he says. From the looks of his hands it could have been a nuclear blast. He then spent the next several weeks “essentially homeless” and has only recently been allowed back into his apartment since it’s been repaired. But the road to full recovery is going to be long and he needs help.

Please donate to his GoFundMe page towards his recovery and let’s get him back making those erotic-surrealist movies instead of living a horror-surrealist life. Click HERE or on the pic below to donate.

Ramzi Abed, aka Brock Doom, GoFundMe for recovery link photo.

Ramzi Abed, aka Brock Doom, GoFundMe for recovery link photo.

Reviewer Magazine's Final Print Issue

Goodbye to the “free” press — but not press freedom

With much gratitude to all, Reviewer is finished as a free newspaper magazine

You may notice that there is no more “Ad Rates” link here on the press blog.

From the Instagram post today, 4-15-2007:
“After 20 years Reviewer Magazine is no more. Last year’s issue 50 is to be its last. Yes there’s various socioeconomic reasons for this, which I’ll talk about in detail at a later date. But for now I just want to say thank you to all of the good people that made its long printed press run possible.

From Instagram today, 4-15-2007: “After 20 years Reviewer Magazine is no more. Last year’s issue 50 is to be its last. Yes there’s various socioeconomic reasons for this, which I’ll talk about in detail at a later date. But for now I just want to say thank you to all of the good people that made its long printed press run possible.”

Lisa Carver's Lifelong Ruckus

[Printed Matter]

Suckdog: A Ruckus

an autobiographical look back through this new book from Lisa Carver

by Reviewer Rob

I’ve always liked career retrospectives. There’s something cathartic in a vicarious sense with experiencing an artist’s life work retrospective. Greatest hits CDs, autobiographies, documentary videos about someone at the end of a long and satisfying career — I like it when they can sum up their life story in a nice, neat package.

I got SUCKDOG: A RUCKUS last month from punk rock icon and alternative opera/art performance legend Lisa Carver and it’s really slick and glossy and well published but “neat” is not quite the word to use for it. She had to self-publish it because, she’s said, the photos included were “full color and full nasty”. There’s several nudes of Lisa when she was performimg on stage in bars in her twenties or early thirties and even one graphic pink spread shot from when she was at some hapless but lucky venue with her French then-husband Costes (her first of three). Really pushing the legal limits of the First Amendment with that one. But that’s Lisa. She’s good at pushing the limits.

I was following her ordeal getting this book to a printer on her Facebook page and it was one turn down after another. She kept at it though, and her perseverance paid off. This will be a fun one to review. Sorry this isn’t the review for it, yet, just an announcement for it. Watch out.

Below is a photo of a fan of Lisa’s with her copy of SUCKDOG: A RUCKUS found on Lisa’s Facebook page. Lisa had asked everyone to post a naked selfie with her book after they purchased it. And they DID. Many many did. Behold: This is the irresistible POWER of Lisa Carver.

A photo of Suckdog, A Ruckus, from a fan on Lisa's Facebook page. Lisa had asked everyone to post a naked selfie with her book after they purchased it and it  arrived. And they DID. Many many did. Behold: This is the irresistible POWER of Lisa Carver.

A photo of the new book Suckdog, A Ruckus from author Lisa Carver. This photo isn’t Lisa but it’s from a fan of hers posted on Lisa’s Facebook page. Lisa had asked everyone to post a naked selfie with her book after they purchased it. And they DID. Many many did. Behold: This is the irresistible POWER of Lisa Carver.

Ayahuasca ritual

Hannah Haddix, trippiing in South America.

Hannah Haddix, tripping in South America.

[First Person]

An Ayahuasca Ritual With Mom

by Hannah Haddix

Feb 16, 2017 2:58pm

Last night we had another ceremony beginning at 9pm and I haven’t slept since. ((It ended up being over 24 hours until I could muster the ability to slip into sleep realms.)) This time it was Dionisio’s lovely wife, Aubrey, conducting the ceremony. Aubrey created a much more spiritual and ritualistic environment for us. She picked some large aromatic flowers from the property and placed them in the center of the maloca along with incense and other ceremonial accoutrement. She had a large and pleasantly deafening singing bowl, and an instrument that sounded like a babbling brook. It was all women in attendance. In order going around our Maloca circle: Aubrey, myself, mothership, Rachel, and Mansi. It’s difficult for me to fathom putting my entire experience into words because it was beyond the capacity of language. Infinite epiphanies and immense deep healing at the atomic level. I saw Ma!! Kali Ma! My entire trip was rejoicing in her Infinate beauty and unconditional love. She is in absolutely EVERYTHING! I saw her love and energy in all creatures, plants, minerals and vast spaces in between… in this realm/planet and endless others. I continue to cry, weeping in the witness of her divinity even after the trip. She dances in my heart and she taught me how to love! She taught me how to live! To truly BE AWAKE and STAY AWAKE. She challenged me and embraced me. Aghori Baba Paglananda told me in 2009 in Kathmandu that I would reach the highest state of consciousness in this lifetime and I was always somewhat skeptical of that grandiose proclamation, but alas!! I was there! I believe I actually made it as he predicted/saw while in his deep white-eyed trance in the cremation grounds. I made it to Ma’s home, in her lap with my brothers and sisters. Welcomed amongst the gods and goddesses. It’s all within! Her palace is within all of us!! Whenever I would start to slip away back into the samsara I just called out her name KALI MAAAA!! and she let me back inside her celestial palace. She said I can come back inside anytime but implored me to go out and play in her backyard and be the wide-eyed child that I am. She gave me the gift of imagination at birth and told me to go out and USE IT! She allowed me to play out my fantasies for the future and just when I thought it was written destiny she showed me different paths. So many fortunate paths and gifts to choose from! She’s blessed me with all the tools to paint my chosen reality. She allowed me to see different ways I can worship her and help heal those who will remain blind to her love in this lifetime and how to guide my brothers and sisters home to her. She showed me the pain of those I love and the best way to help them cut away at their own shackles without making myself a martyr. She showed me how to love myself and take care of my body. Astrologically congruent as it is, I am a water bearer to nourish the world with my expression and in order to keep that fluid energy flowing I must keep myself fully hydrated. I’m not drinking nearly enough water and apparently this is the cause for most chronic illnesses in the world. She showed me that antiperspirant deodorant that contains aluminum will kill me if I continue to use it. She wants me to help others see the poison in those products and encourage them to throw that toxic shit directly in the garbage. Embrace your sweat. Embrace your smells. These functions are necessary for homeostasis and they are beautiful. Break the control of the beauty industry. Aluminum deodorant is pure evil. I immediately threw mine in the garbage and I will not look back. She showed me what that particular death feels like and I begged her to heal me and allow me to choose a different death. I still feel the pain of the poison being leeched out of my armpits. They are still burning wildly and my underarm lymph nodes are swollen and tender. She’s healing me!! When you cry at the feet of Ma asking for help she obliges! She loves me so much! I weep!! Joy Maa! Joy Maa Kali!

Kali Ma cured me of my lifelong indoctrinated misogyny! Holy shit, seriously though!! She taught me how to embrace my sisters. The strength we are given as women should not be used to attack each other in the competition for sexual attention and ego driven plights. No! We must cherish and strengthen our sisters! We are all innately beautiful and worthy of love and there is an endless abundance to go around! Never kick the feet out from under other women; you will only end up tripping yourself in the process. Ma wants her children to get along and love each other. When you think and say nasty things about women you are saying and thinking all those things about Ma!! How horrific! Such blasphemy! She is in all of us!! I must love my sisters like I love my Kali Ma!

Aubrey embodied Ma. I first saw Ma in her as she was walking around anointing us with aromatic oils and sage smoke. Once I saw her spirit animated in Aubrey’s body I was able to see Ma in all things. Like waves, all her forms and faces crashed upon my brow in rapid succession. I laid there paralyzed in awe. Humbled. Surrendering to her insurmountable power and infinity. At one point Aubrey sat next to me and started to tell me how beautiful it is to be going through this journey with my biological mothership. She started telling me about similar trials with her own mom and how now that she is a mother (she has a beautiful bright-eyed two year old daughter) she finally understands. While she was talking to me I would go in and out of being able to comprehend what she was actually saying because we were psychically, telepathically, and energetically connected and there was a gigantic download of information being transferred to me. Various languages and visions of knowledge, wisdom, and understanding flowing from her being directly into mine. Without knowing if she actually said it or if it was transferred psychically she said I need to embrace my sisters. She talked about the deep societal and patriarchal conditioning that must be broken. Dads are important, but mothers are paramount. She spoke about the special and unparalleled relationship between a mother and a daughter. Through Aubrey, Maa told me not to masturbate so much or even at all (!!!!), that I should save my shakti for devotional tantra; that the pornography I consume for sexual release is poison. Sex is beautiful and bodies are beautiful and there’s nothing wrong with witnessing pornography, but that it should not be used or relied upon for sexual release. It’s unhealthy karmic entanglement with the people performing in the pornography. Orgasms should always be devotional. Direct your shakti and praise Ma! Ma told me that if I use all my sexual energy devotionally she will unlock the power of endless lucid dreaming where I can play out any and every single one of my sexually fantasies as vivid as real life without any fleshworld repercussions. She explained that all things that we consume are either nourishment, medicine, or poison. We should be more aware about what we consume, not only with our mouths, but with all of our senses. She said “and yes, even books. And trust me, I know you’ve read some books!!” And she lauggghhhheddd and I joined her. We cackled and laughed like coyotes at all the fucked up books I’ve been reading pretending the content wasn’t toxic because it was in written book form. As Aubrey sat next to me simultaneously speaking a million languages and messages I saw her biological insides. I saw her skeleton and her circulatory system, her organs, muscles and divine electrical pulse. Her face morphed from an aged crone to a young maiden and back again. Each time a different face. A different ethnicity. A different expression. Ma has endless forms. I couldn’t speak with my mouth, only with my thoughts. She could hear me effortlessly. Spoken words aren’t necessary. Maa hears all things. Aubrey said she could see and smell my plant bath on me from earlier that day. We took a moment to energetically give thanks to all the many healing and powerful medicinal and psychoactive plants we collected from the jungle earlier that day. Coco leaves, datura flowers, ayahuasca leaves, chiric sananga, charcruna, rooda, rosemary, rose pedals, prosaseesa (marigold,) tulsi (holy basil,) and aho sacha (jungle garlic.) MA’s garden is a wild eden sprawling with life, nutrients, medicines, portals, poisons, and entities. Ma has a remedy for absolutely everything. The plants are special spirits that deserve endless respect. We gave thanks for the fertile lands and prayed for humans to pay more respect to the plant-life on this precious planet.

I had a profound, terrifying and healing experience in relation to my mothership. Once again she was audibly sleeping during the majority of the ceremony and it was making me very sad because I felt like she was blatantly deciding to die. At one point Aubrey sweetly crooned “Maraaa Leeee, this isn’t the time for sleeping. Wake up. This is a ceremony! You didn’t come all this way to sleep through the ceremony, did you?” She woke up a little and I was psychically telling her “look mom! It’s fun! Have fun with us! Life is beautiful.” But then she said “sleeping is so much easier” and went right back to sleep and I cried. I realized that whatever pain she has experienced during this lifetime will never be fully understood by me and she won’t be able to escape from it or heal herself because she is too afraid to do the hard and scary work necessary. She will not be fortunate enough to truly know the face and sweet grace of God in this lifetime. Aubrey went over to her and while she was anointing my mom with oils and smoke I saw her preparing my mom for her death. It was a death rite because she was choosing to die. The pain was too immense. I started to repeat the mantra “karmarpa cheno karmarpa cheno karmarpa cheno” that Trilochean Guru Baba taught me in Kathmandu after I was accidentally responsible for the death of a puppy right after lighting a candle for Kal Bhairav. The mantra is utilized when aiding the recently deceased to reincarnate higher. Kali Maa, through Aubrey and myself, created a space for her in the next life and I’ve been assured it’s truly special. She will know what peace feels like in her next life. She will have a sound mind. After what felt like an eternity of mourning, my mom got up and left the maloca. I had a vision of her stripping naked and purging intensely from her mouth and her bowels immediately outside of the maloca. It was her mandatory walk of shame because she chose to sleep this lifetime away. Once she was out of sight I thought for sure she was dead. I cried and cried and mourned her death even more. But I had Maa there with me and I knew I was strong and that her next life was going to be infinitely better than this one without being really sure if she was going to be reincarnated as a human or not. I thought maybe a colorful frog would have a nice sound mind. She was gone for what felt like another eternity but when she reentered the circle I got up and gave her a gigantic hug and told her how much I love her and that her next life is going to be amazing. I don’t think she heard or understood me, but she was very happy that I gave her such a good hug. She even thanked me for it the next day. Once she was back in the maloca and I could see that she was still alive Maa told me to go to my room and let Aubrey work with my mom some more. I later learned that my presence was missed and that it would have been appreciated if I stayed, but in those moments I truly felt like I was told to go to my room… that my purpose in that circle had been served. I gathered my pillow, ritual shawl, KAYTWO sweater, water bottle and flashlight and started making my way down the steep winding stone path. I felt like a child again hugging my pillow, wobbly on my feet like I had just learned to walk. I let out a laugh so hearty it felt like it came from the depths of my bones. I laughed the way only children know how to laugh. I cackled and screamed “JOY MAA.” Mansi was having an intense moment not far from the path and the next day she told me that she saw me in that moment and that I had transformed into a wild beast. She heard some cats fighting and screeching nearby and was convinced that I was eating the cats! She wanted to go to the maloca to tell Aubrey that I was eating the cats but she was tripping too hard to make her way up the winding stone path.

Once I got to our lovely communal home I opened the door and it felt like my forever home. It was like walking into the perfect mansion that would be mine forever. I was elated. It was so beautiful. I started walking up the stairs and stopped halfway by the massive boulder that is protruding from the wall and is part of the staircase. Inside I saw a woman in the fetal position. The rock was a womb and a tomb. It was a grandmother Maa. I hugged the rock and said hello and paid my respects to the woman buried inside. Once I got to the top of the stairs and looked down the dark hall things became very sinister and scary. Shadows became dark trees and demons. Maa said “Mahakala is right behind this door. You’ve been saying you want to see him. Do you want to see Mahakala’s face?” I hugged my pillow hard and said “No Maa! Please not now! I’m not ready. Please. I just buried my mom and I don’t want to see Mahakala right now. I’m too fragile.” The loving Maa granted me my wishes and allowed me to enter my room without the face of hell waiting for me there. I’m very fortunate because apparently most people don’t get a choice in the matter. Most people who experience the hell realms are taken there without warning and can not do anything to escape them until Mother aya deems it enough.
After walking into the two story room that I was sharing with my mothership I went into the bathroom to purge and while I was doing so I stripped completely naked, shedding my white ceremony clothes on the ground in front of the toilet. I made sure I didn’t catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror because in my experience mirrors on psychedelics can be quite the horrific black hole. Once I felt I had physically rid myself of whatever ails I was storing in my biology I walked up the private stairs to my top floor bedroom area and laid down in my bed.

Kali Ma is such a Trickster! It’s hard to explain how, but she kept on tricking me. Just when I thought my visions/understandings were concrete she would show me something wildly contradictory. Also, just when I thought I was safe from seeing Mahakala she would play little tricks on me to rile me up. Maa is my favorite comedian. Such a trickster! Somehow her jokes never got old. You know those jokesters that are relentlessly repetitive and don’t know when to quit? She’s like that except hilarious. I was alone in my upstairs bedroom laying in my mosquito-net covered four-poster bed laughing at her and saying “MAAAA YOU’RE SUCH A TRICKSTERR!” Who knew God could be so funny?

Speaking of Tricksters, I had a vision while still in the maloca that William Clark actually IS my brother. He was up there in the celestial palace with Maa because he has also seen her face in this lifetime. Even though I’ve referred to him as my big brother I saw him now as my little brother. He was a trickster as well. Always hiding behind corners. Laughing and dancing and wearing orange like the Baul musicians that he adores so much. When I realized he truly is my brother I laughed hysterically because of our previous sexual history when I was visiting him in India. I accidentally slept with my brother and that absolutely cracked me up. At first I was like “Maa how could you let your children sleep together?” But then I realized that when you are the mother of the entire universe that all your creations are going to be incestual. What a weird family she has! So many children all fucking and fighting and eating each other. The grand mandala of orgiastic death battles. Twisted tornado of imaginary time and misconstrued matter melding into a whirlwind of wonderful confusion. The next day I told my Mothership (who is not very keen on William based on her experience of him when she visited us in India) about him being my brother and how she HAS to love and accept him. She said “No. I don’t believe I was EVER William’s mother.” and she’s probably right. Kali Maa is the mother that threads us together as siblings, not my Mothership. Regardless, I think it would be nice if she could muster the strength to love something that she doesn’t understand or innately connect with. This is my prayer for all of humanity.

So, back to me naked in bed laughing at Maa and receiving the visions she was transferring to me… next came the aliens. While thinking/seeing again how toxic aluminum deodorant is I was shown the face behind the evil. I had a vision of evil aliens trying to terraform planet Earth ((terraform may not be the proper term for this… it was suggested that “alienform” is more appropriate))… slowly taking over with their technology & A.I. Merging biological bodies with metal. It was as if the aluminum in deodorant was altering our DNA to be able to eventually merge with the cold circuitry of machines. I saw their stark expressionless faces staring down sinisterly from the heavens above. Watching us. Waiting. They want our planet and I’m not sure why they are being so patient and insidious with their war tactics. Perhaps their lifespans are much longer, or perhaps their perception/experience of time is drastically different than ours here on Earth. Anyone who knows me knows I’m obsessed with aliens and going to outer space is THE big dream. I’ve somehow been cured of my life long desire to colonize other planets and travel outside of Earth’s atmosphere because I was shown that taking care of this planet is our ONLY hope for survival. We don’t belong on other planets. The technology that we develop that would make living on other planets a feasible reality will end up destroying human life as we know it. If the loveless aliens win we will become a new species entirely that does not have any resemblance of the creatures we are now and have been for many multiple thousands of years. We will be enslaved. Forced to live in a cold metallic world devoid of organic life and love and art. Flat surfaces, straight lines, and the death of spontaneity. We will have as much free will as a pocket calculator that is always told exactly what to compute. Once I was shown the imminent objective threat to our species I had the undeniable understanding that I had just been recruited for war. Kali Ma brought me here in this moment because the deciding battle was happening at that very moment!! Kali chose me to be one of her warriors because she knows my strengths and determinations. We must battle the aliens with the most powerful weapon, one that they don’t have the ability to forge: love! I realize how insane and perhaps “new age” all this sounds, but it was absolutely undeniably real for me. I stared up at the grey enemies, swelling my heart with all the love I could muster, and shot it through the sky like a laser beam in full force attack. I had been chosen to fight the greatest planetary battle on behalf of all humans and all creatures who naturally reside on Earth. I was the night watcher. The night warrior. She recruited me to fight through the long night while the other soldiers slept. It was just me and the dogs I could hear barking nearby. It was me and the dogs fighting for our planet. I saw Akshy, the wolf dog, barking at the sky in full attack. I saw him die in war, but Maa resurrected him because he is somehow integral to the outcome of this battle. I saw myself in the damp cold soil of the earth surrounded by skulls. A past life as an aghori, unafraid and willing to fight through the night with the creepy crawlers and blood hounds. Gathering strength from my past incarnations I summoned the focused ability to fight until the sun came up. It became my soul’s destiny and most paramount purpose to make sure the sun came up. If I fell asleep before then the Earth and all her creatures would be doomed to metallic slavery. It rested on my shoulders to stay awake and save the world. It ended up being the longest night of my life.

There were times while laying there determined to stay awake that I kept hearing Janelle Clark’s voice in my head. Janelle is a darling psychic friend and spiritual advisor of mine. I saw her the day before I left for Peru for what I like to call an “exorcism massage” to rid myself of some of the lingering ailments and demons that January infected me with. I had visions of her during my first ayahuasca ceremony that, like William Clark being my brother, Janelle Clark is undeniably my sister! And how serendipitous that they share the same last name! HA! I saw Janelle and she was the most beautiful woman to me. She embodies a maternal wisdom and understanding of the hidden realms in such full force that she must be directly threaded with God. A true seer. Aware of all the spirits simultaneously. She has been blessed with the burdenous gift of true sight. And she was there helping me through the longest night of my life. She told me to drink more water. I was dehydrated and she could feel it in my skin. I laid there hugging and chugging my water bottle praying to wash away every thread of tiredness. The warrior must keep hydrated. She told me to push all my blankets and pillows off my bed and lay flat on my back with my palms up. She reminded me to breathe. When I was slipping into sleep it was Janelle’s voice that said “WAKE UP!”

At one point I was in a relentless time loop. It was like Bill Murray movie, Groundhog Day. I would be laying there fighting the aliens with love and making sure I stayed awake until the sun came up when I would hear a rooster crow. I always thought the crowing meant that the sun was about to rise. I would wait for what felt like forever but the sun never came. This kept looping and looping. I couldn’t tell you how many times that rooster gave me false sun alarms in the dead of night. Oh, and for whatever reason, whenever I heard that rooster I always envisioned it as a cockatoo. A white cockatoo with a colorful mohawk. After infinite eternities I decided to walk downstairs and see if my mom had returned to her bed. She wasn’t there. I decided to hold space for her while she was away at her own funeral so I crawled through the mosquito net and laid in her bed, still naked. Again with the time loops of the howling hounds, crowing cockatoo roosters, and sun that refused to rise.

Finally. While the sun was still nowhere to be seen, my mothership entered the room. She was happy and excitedly told me that she decided to drink some more ayahuasca. She expressed how much she enjoyed Aubrey and told me that she plans to come back to Peru to do at 12 day dietta at Yucamaman. She said everyone was wondering where I was. I told her I was holding space for her and that I was glad she was back home because I needed to concentrate on making sure the sun came up. From the bathroom she asked “whats all this white stuff on the floor?” and I explained that they were my clothes. I needed to get naked. She laughed and asked if I was naked in her bed and I said “of course!” We chatted a little longer while she got ready for bed. I tucked her in and turned off the lights and then went and hung out in the bathroom. It was long before I heard her snoring sound asleep. It was around 3 or 4 in the morning (at this point my memory doesn’t serve me) but my pupils were giant black saucers until the sun came up. I hung out in the bathroom with some candles I lit and some Gabriel Guardian Angel incense. I looked at myself naked in the mirror and it was like seeing myself naked for the first time. My body was such a precious gift. I massaged my tender lymph nodes in my arm pits and promised myself I wouldn’t use aluminum deodorant anymore. I brushed and braided my hair and heard Janelle’s voice say “don’t worry, your hair will get thicker when you get healthy.” I washed my face and brushed my teeth with black charcoal toothpaste. My daily rituals all felt like they were brand new experiences. I hung out in that bathroom for hours. Watching the candle burn and laughing at Maa. At one point I had a strong sense of my French lover, Nico, come over me. I could see him, huddled small and anxious in the wet cold winds of Dijon France. I spoke aloud for the first time in hours cooing “oooohhhh Niiiico,” My heart swelled with love for him.

The sky started to brighten and the songs of the birds grew louder and more varied. Once I saw the first ray of sun cast over the distance jungle hills I fell to the bathroom floor and wept. The sun had risen and I was relieved of my night watching war duty. The world did not fall into metallic enslavement on my watch. I was exhausted and elated and bewildered. Praise Ma!

Anna Yanushkevich, The Pussy Grabs Back, 1-20-17, The Merrow


Women Matter

Anna Yanushkevich, The Pussy Grabs Back, 1-20-17, The Merrow

video and review by Reviewer Rob

My interpretation is this is a performance art piece where the dancer is depicting the vulnerability of old age or infirmity in the relationship that a woman has when joined to a wealthy man that is willing to trade her in through divorce the moment she ages to a certain point and her youth and usefulness as a trophy wife has been consumed. That’s my evaluation of Anna’s performance as this night’s burlesque stage show was entitled “The Pussy Grabs Back” and was held Inauguration night 2017 after Donald Trump was sworn in as the fortyfifth President of the United States, and we all know about The Donald’s marital history.

Maybe I’m incorrect and totally got the point of beautiful Anna’s dance wrong. Maybe I was projecting something that wasn’t there. But I’m glad I got there in time to see this amazing woman do her thing on stage. I only wish I had four arms so I could shoot high rez photos as well as video but since I had to choose I picked video so you, dear reader, could better appreciate this talented woman’s poetry of motion.

Anna Yanushkevich, The Pussy Grabs Back, 1-20-17, The Merrow

Anna Yanushkevich, The Pussy Grabs Back, 1-20-17, The Merrow,


[Performance Art]


Friquita Francis, words & Marco Butcher, music.
Recorded at Boom Box Studios, North Carolina, produced in Istanbul, Turkey, 2016.

review by Reviewer Rob

LUNA DEATH TRAILS – RIDDEN COUNTRY TERROR SNOW” is a big and bawdy new single track with lyrics that meander all over the emotional map recorded by Friquita Francis and Marco Butcher. It was produced through a collaboratory effort from opposite sides of the world. Friquita teases the listener with her sometimes indecipherable voice which has matured and is noticeably stronger than in “Fry”, the last track I heard from her (unreleased) a few years ago recorded in New Orleans. There’s hints of PJ Harvey in her voice here and the cacophonous percussion and bass is reminiscent of Tom Waits while the vocals also call to mind some of the less angry versions of Lydia Lunch. You’re an audio voyeur to a private party with witches and multiform creatures brought to life from out of an Hieronymus Bosch painting. Look for a lot more from this band.


stultified from the bones sinking in
the worm holes in your skin laughing clocks
battered brides
a great desires
to run
and hide (shake it up) mountains to volcanoes
behind lustful eyes
a hazy morning
a foghorn cries push him deeper
pull inside
you’ll never know
just what
you’ll find (shake it up)
something new
something bright
something true
and prophesied knock me out
like a cold male lover
deepest shades of black
the pressure of your motor skills
your motive is a fact push him deeper baby
push him inside
wake up in santiago baby
with blood dripping from my mind as far away from you
as far away from me
as far away from time
and your fucking brainwashed kind you’ve got no money baby but you’ve got a whole lot of guns
you’ve got nobody baby
but you’ll have a whole lot of fun

Friquita Francis, an innocent, abroad.

Friquita Francis, an innocent, abroad.

Americana Dance Hall at Grand Old Office

[Photo log]

The Grand Old Office

The Americana dance and music scene

words and photos by Reviewer Rob

One night a month The Office on 30th Street in San Diego (the classic old completely remodeled Scolari’s Office space, remember?) turns into a country-western honky tonk now and it’s a free for all on stage as local talent does their best Americana version of classic like Merle, Hank, Johnny, and others, as well as some originals. Bring a cowboy hat and drink Jack straight.

The Grand Old Office

The Grand Old Office

The Grand Old Office

The Grand Old Office

The Grand Old Office

The Grand Old Office

The Grand Old Office

The Grand Old Office

The Grand Old Office