The American Trinity

God, the apostle Paul, and the comedian Lenny Bruce appeared to prominent American pornographer Larry Flynt, when in 1977 he was flying over the Rockies in his labia-pink jet. True story, he recalls: >>
Flynt was thrown into that spiritual spin because he was messing too much with the Sun (powers known and unknown). When biology clocked him at thirty-five, when a man needs to straighten out and get his job done, the Sun roared. Happens to many of us maturing guys, only in less otherworldly ways. With the pink-shot sophist Flynt it took an extreme turn. Not, primarily, because he was filthy in an extreme way. Many guys are. But because he had become one of the notorious agents of ill eating away at the Western world.
Flynt had had religious flashes for some time prior. Again, nothing unusual for a guy that age and life history. But what made his case singular and exemplary for all to see, was the shift to a whole new level of meaning: the plight of a whole race of people, of Whites.
Let’s go to the logbook. One of the most publicized corruptors of right-minded life in America and the Western world is having existential pains due to hitting a threshold in life. The evangelical sister of the evangelical president of the United States steps into his life. The contact verges on a near-sentient linking to the mightiest powers of the Western world, and the World, actually. Now comes the pivot: a liaison to those powers initiates a Christian, i.e., beyond reason acceptance of a demoralized to the core but also influential in his realm man. Wasn’t it him who published a photo of a U.S. president’s naked wife for the whole world to chew on, for which he only got more notorious and richer? Out of that combustive mix, the otherwise casual processes of hitting peak manhood had fused into a form of spiritual flare. Ruth Carter Stapleton certainly played a part in triggering the pornographer’s vision, including some of the casting.
Some, because the Lenny Bruce character clearly springs up from Larry Flynt’s own crassness, coupled with the first-hand knowledge of the rot setting in the Western world. That’s when things get interesting for us Whites today.
Lenny Bruce was born in 1925 on Long Island and died in 1966 naked on his bathroom floor in Hollywood from an overdose of morphine. In 1964, after his arrest for using obscene language on stage, Norman Mailer, James Jones, and other “prominent intellectuals” defended him as a social satirist “in the tradition of Swift, Rabelais, and Twain.” Bob Fosse’s flick Lenny (1974), starring Dustin Hoffman, showcased Bruce to the hoi polloi as a “martyr of freedom of speech.” One of Bruce’s classic lines was: “Take away the right to say [bleep], and you take away the right to say [bleep] the government.” Another one: “If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic schoolchildren would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses.”
In the early 1960s prosecutors from the East Coast to the West were in hot pursuit of Bruce for public obscenity. One such posse in L.A.―aware that to accuse someone of indecent speech the complaint had to be filed by a person who understood the disputed phrases, and knowing that in parts of his act Bruce shelled stuff in Yiddish―had brought in an undercover Jewish sheriff. He hardcopied the tidbits in a notebook, and so the cuffs were finally slapped onto the wrists of the social satirist in the tradition of Swift, Rabelais, and Twain, and he was hauled off to the pen for booking.
In 1963 Hugh Hefner―here the ends meet―talks Bruce into putting out in installments his autobiography How to Talk Dirty and Influence People in the Playboy peepzine. Two years later, the Playboy Press treats the lower self of the good country to that content as a book. Today, five decades into the progress, the mainstream imbues the common mind with such unalienable truths about Lenny Bruce as…
He was the satirist in the tradition of Mark Twain, Francois Rabelais, and Jonathan Swift.
He was the radical saint of the comedy world.
He revolutionized the comic act in the U.S. in the 1960s.
He redefined stand-up comedy.
He startled by breaking the rules of decency with freshness and bravado.
He crossed the demarcation line of decency, where others lacked the courage.
The relentlessness of the government in persecuting him for making use of freedom of expression in comparison with the actual recordings of his appearances shows in full light the ridiculousness and backwardness even then of the old-fashioned Puritan sensibility.
Forty years after Lenny Bruce’s first arrest for offending the public morality and thirty-seven since his martyrdom on the bathroom floor after an overdose of morphine, New York Governor George Pataki posthumously pardons him. It is December 23, 2003. The world took another step forward.
OK, it did. Why then in his epiphany did Larry Flynt ask God if Lenny Bruce was in heaven or hell?
Because “Lenny Bruce” in Larry Flynt’s vision 40 thousand feet over the Rockies was Larry Flynt himself. Both Lenny Bruce and Larry Flynt were simultaneously unstitching in their corresponding fields the traditional American mores. The values, the virtues, the norms, the notions, the attitudes, the moral dispositions, the convictions that shape mental habits, the habits of the heart―all those linchpins, about which the brilliant Comte in his traveling epiphany (1835–1840) concluded that without them there wouldn’t be a democratic republic. There wouldn’t be America.
And in that America a century and a half down the path the pornographer Larry Flynt in a vision over the Rockies inquires of God if the foul-mouthed comedian Lenny Bruce is in heaven or hell―in fact asking about himself. And then he “didn’t remember” God’s reply. Well, he didn’t, because the “reply” wasn’t there yet. Several months later it would flesh out alright. He will be shot in the centerfold gut by one James Clayton Vaughn Jr. aka Joseph Paul Franklin (Benjamin Franklin & Paul Joseph Goebbels combined), for promoting interracial sex.
Larry Flynt later maintained that being able to afford the best psychiatrists had eventually freed him from the illusion of conversion. He attributed the turmoil to the manic-depressive state of his mind and a possible chemical imbalance in his brain that resulted from chronic stress. That’s OK with us. It does not make a dent in the validity of his spiritual pop-up in our view. That’s how religions have been made anyway, for the most part. Thousands upon thousands of the small ones, and that handful of the big ones, too. It’s just that we’re so far away in time and reliable eyewitness record of what was happening in that spirit-blasting era, that we don’t grasp the technical similarities between the circumstances of, say, Joseph Smith originating Mormonism, and the riders of such spirit storms in ancient past.
I said, “that’s how religions have been made for the most part.” For the most part, because we now are inevitably approaching that only hard fact in Larry Flynt’s illusion, which is this: What for crying out loud to do with this wheelchair? It was the final image of his revelation and the world-famed rake immediately was shaken to the core. It disturbed him deep down in his gut, his own words. And a few months later he’d be swiftly placed in the actual thing for the remainder of his life.
So the world’s foremost porner has a warning vision with a concluding threat of being put into a wheelchair. He has a profound conversion as a result. A few months later he turns his back on it. Soon after he gets shot in the centerfold gut. The wheelchair is made flesh. How to explain that?!
I say it was real, not coincidental. From my experiences on the trail, these things do occur. But they’re neither Christian nor Jewish nor Hindu nor Buddhist nor Anybox. They occur when they occur, there’s no rule to it as we’d wish to encapsulate it in our minds. They visit. When they do, they make sense so immediate that one has no urgency whatsoever to link them to a broader epistemological grid. Just get on a trail and see. You’ll come to the point when you say with an ease and conviction that on his fateful flight over the Rockies in his labia-pink jet American Larry Flynt did see the face of god. It was Lenny Bruce. And by God, he was the most live of the three.