Moon Cheese & Science Trannies
Posted by Regrette Etcetera on October 11, 2009
Moon Cheese & Science Trannies
A Review of the Fauxist International Moon Bomb Amateur Telscopy Party, Sydney, 9th-10th October, 2009.
By Johnathon Hadres
When a hundred plus people make it through the torrential rain- and Sydneysiders are a notoriously hydrophobic lot- to a ruined sharehouse in Newtown, you always know that something interesting may be afoot. When you arrive to find the house front encased in foil, with ‘such interestingly arrayed boys’ (to bend one of Oscar Wildes’s finer quips), political posters in Spanish, & a bar- at which most of the menu consists of elucidations of the ‘additives’ one can have in a variously coloured drink- attended by someone in a light suit, and moreover, when everyone has come to watch a show put on by NASA, you may be in for something interesting indeed.
And this something was the ‘Fauxist International Moon Bomb Amateur Telscopy Party’.
And yes, NASA was bombing the moon last night, so let’s have a party right?
So far so good.
And if you’ve heard of the Fauxists, none of this will surprise you. They’ve been gaining quite the reputation for dissolute hoax art-activism, parodying the best in interventionist politics and tickling transhumanists and trannies alike. Think: the Cockettes introduce the B-52’s to the Situationists because they both love indulgent contestational science… With me? Exactly.
Though (obviously) this is precisely when it gets weird. (And last time I checked it’s not 1968…)
So we were there (shrugging off the weather) to watch a bomb hit the moon- at a party listing its ‘sister sites’ over 6 countries globally- which is naturally in an aluminium foil encased room, as a strange drag queen- Regrette Etcetera- is apparently wrestling simultaneous internet linkups with venues in San Francisco, Melbourne (a ‘Let’s Paint TV’ party, which as a multi-tasking spoof seemed decidedly torpid in comparison!)…
So let’s have a party right?
So something with video links and Powerpoint presentations and trannies and exotic psychedelics should do it… Indeed it did it.
Suffice to say the former eroded the latter, and the (deliberately?) woeful state of the setup- the sheer hilarious cheek of such divine NASA video projections being shown on doonas (by mentioning the references to ‘body-fluid Rorschach diagrams’ I’ve said enough…) & 3 simultaneous video conversations on a PA during a presentation- continued to amaze even such a wilful pseudo-Luddite as myself. From here, the mayhem continued, culminating in the moment when, to the disbelief of many, the NASA TV Live Feed mysteriously ceased to function 2 minutes before the bomb hit- to again say what is perhaps unnecessary, someone in the crowd had “kicked out the modem cord”- leaving the crowd unable to determine whether ANYTHNING HAD ACTUALLY HAPPENED. To add to the confusion, the NASA countdown clock mysteriously began to count backwards in time…creating no small measure of chaos, and leading many members of the audience to speculate as to whether the whole affair was not indeed some nefarious Fauxist hoax…
So, We didn’t see it happen. But that’s the point right?
If the Moon Bomb affected us at all- and we evidently had the luck to be fully insulated from any aberrant co(s)mic rays in the fully lined patio cell- it was in the evaporation of clothing…And so far so good. Though I’m not sure that everything is fine. An important part of my epoch seems to have just evaporated also. The politics of the nuke scares- sentiments that propelled Greenpeace, ‘Dogs In Space’ and ‘The Nostradamus Kid’- seemed long gone. A form of shock that these postmodern children seem precisely to have been engendered by, and now inhabit cosily, calls ‘Bring it on, what a joke’…
Am I showing my age?
Honourable mentions include: A presentation on the moon bomb and “Cosmic Colonialisms of NASA/Trek” delivered in a florid 6 minutes before the impact- Dr Etcetera, in white PVC, pausing midway to explain the true content of the drinks/victuals of The ChemLab Bar…“no the little dots, no matter what colour they are, are GHB” & continued on to lay out how they were going to fund their tourist trip to a moon hotel (with an apparent $30 million price-tag) by either: getting the dole for 759 years, giving 600000 blowjobs, or building a ‘ladder of cum’, a ‘gossamer extrusion’ (& yes the numbers on this- at 2.46ml per splodge- were laid out in their messy grotesqueries…). The “San Francisco Representative “Dr. Johann Von CrayCray” (a hilarious blonde-bearded drag king/queen/tranny- oh don’t the slashes proliferate on the west coast)- beaming in about ‘gravitational disturbances’ and ‘ensuing orgies’ was pricelessly weird. Also, the “Infinite Anus: Oracular Orifice”- a silver tent with a peach spandex anus- filled a room- typed responses to questions, cosmic noise, & an explanatory article entitled “From Myth to Whiff” seemingly detourned from something on the Oracle of Delphi. And whether or not the ‘failed musical’ which promised (according to the hand-written schedule worth quoting at length): “a missiles existential crisis, satellite love scenes, warring transsexual moons with dance posses, alien queer scientists & various motifs which lay out the deeper issues- both emotional and crypto-scientific- surrounding the military-industrial complex’s space agenda” occurred, I leave up to you, as I left ‘early’.
So what can one say about an apparently ironic, self-referential and self-sabotaging collusion of freaks? (And one wonders if indeed the group is anything more than some deep joke constructed by Regrette Etcetera herself…). And with a group who claim to have ‘convinced Neil Armstrong his own moon landing was a hoax’, and have a member named ‘In defence of Conspiracy Theory’, can there be anything but an ever-elusive satisfaction, a evasive truth, as the Fauxists chase our tails for us?
A great party? Fuck NASA? What’s the point of protesting?
Overhearing people leaving jokingly say: “So when is the next moon bomb?”, I thought: Perhaps that’s the point…though perhaps When is the next Fauxist party? would get a ‘straight-er’ answer.