There is hardly an American male of my generation who has not at one time or another tried to master the victory cry of the great ape as it issued from the androgynous chest of Johnny Weissmuller, to the accompaniment of thousands of arms and legs snapping during attempts to swing from tree to tree in the backyards of the Republic.

I am savage about what has been done to the United States by its rulers.

The same people own the media that own the White House that own the Congress that own the oil fields. They all work together to give a false view of the world to the American people.

The creation of a work of art, like an act of love, is our one small 'yes' at the center of a vast 'no.'

It is of no consequence to you what others think of you. What matters is what you think of them. That is how you live your life.

Then die. We must all do that. But die, as they say, game.

Since the individual's desire to dominate his environment is not a desirable trait in a society which every day grows more and more confining, the average man must take to daydreaming.