Philadelphia City Paper: December 2-December 9, 1988 page 14
In the preface to High Weirdness by Mail, the Reverend Ivan Stang notes that "the Traveling Snake-Oil Medicine Show isn't dead -- it just travels by mail." And High Weirdness, a compendium of sources for mail-order snake oil, proves his point. If you're willing to invest the price of a few stamps, the book points out, "soon, A MILLION CONTRADICTORY PATHS TO HAPPINESS will be vying for your personal attention in the mailbox, paths ranging from inadvertently hilarious delusions to the wisdom of the ages, yet -- and this is the most revealing part -- each one the only TRUE PATH!!"
Persons familiar with Stang's other book, The Book of the SubGenius, will recognize the generous -- and successful -- use of italics, caps and boldface type for emphasis and sarcasm. But then again, persons familiar with The Book of the SubGenius will already have bought High Weirdness -- or will be included in it.
In the book -- and the church -- of the SubGenius, Stang elevates scoffing and [line missing -- Modemac] reached, using every typographical and artistic resource to make his irreverent points, and usually making them so successfully that only the hippest -- or craziest -- readers can tell when, if ever, he's not being sarcastic. The church reveres snake oil salesman J.R. "Bob" Dobbs as its godhead in its quest to rid the world of all other snake oil salesmen.
Or maybe not; it's hard to understand all Stang's SubGenius rants, though it's worth a try. But High Weirdness, largely collected from SubGenius materials, has a somewhat clearer goal: "This book is essentially a collection of snide put-downs of hundreds of well-meaning, sincere people in all walks of extremism." Stang admits that he hopes the book might help "deprogram some fence-straddling kid out of diving head-first into a soul-sapping vampire cult -- or aid him in finding one, if that's what he really needs...It should also serve as a reminder of the actual freedom of superstition, degeneracy, hate, flimflam, and gullibility that we enjoy in the U.S." Nonetheless, he remains true to his SubGenius faith. "All that being so, still,, this book's MAIN purpose is indeed to provide a bunch of mockers with a few good laughs."
And the good laughs abound. Among the several hundred listings and one- or two-paragraph descriptions are the Breatharians, who believe that "eating is merely an acquired habit"; the Dowser's Precision Supply Co.; and the Association to Save Madonna from Nuclear War.
But far more hilarious than the few humorous groups included, and almost as funny as the many groups that take themselves seriously, are Stang's comments.
About the Free Tract Society Stang says, "Ever wonder where those stupid little religious tracts come from? This is the place." About the Pat Robertson for President organization, Stang says simply, "You know what to do."
Some of the best sarcasm is more subtle, arising when Stang simply paraphrases the beliefs of whatever weird group he's describing. From the Showers of Blessing House of Prayer for All People, we learn that "angels surround us, and they'll feed us if we let them. Their Biblical Manna dough tastes like fudge, and you can get boxes of it in Iraq -- it's supplied to churches there by some inexplicable natural phenomenon." Rare is the reader who will require more information to determine if this is the address he or she wants to squander a stamp on.
And in almost every debunking, no matter how biting, Stang's overriding philosophy comes through. About the Battle Cry of Aggressive Christianity, he says, "Okay, sure -- they are dangerous, hopelessly ignorant, inbred, retarded borderline lunatics with an insatiable lust for the blood of sinners -- but at least they're HONEST about it, which somehow lends them a little more dignity than wimpy mainstreamers who hide the same feelings behind polite hatred." Clearly, despite his claims to the contrary, this book wants to make you think.
To this end, Stang introduces each of the book's 20 chapters with a short essay. In the chapter on Great Badfilm and Sleaze, Stang briefly talks about normality: "To categorize each other people's mental excretions as 'weird,' one must first know what's 'normal.' And boy, do I! I've had to pander to normalcy all my life just to survive. Haven't you? It's a bitch, ain't it?!?"
And before the chapter entitled Weird Politics, Stang includes a three-page discussion of the three kinds of people in the world: "Among the listees in this book, the naive, pleasant New Agers...are Larrys...the artists, unsung geniuses...are Curlys...the Moes, then, are the fanatics. ...the Resistance Leaders and the Ruling Class Bankers, both. They hate each other, but only because they want to control ALL the Larrys and Curlys themselves." Of course, Stang is a Moe, and he tells you all about it. This essay is worth the price of the book in itself.
Stang can hardly believe how many crazies there are out there, but he thinks we should at least notice them. As he says in the preface, "The great mystic J.R. "Bob" Dobbs often preached on this. 'You know how dumb the average guy is?...Well, by definition, half of them are even dumber than that.' Sad but true, and getting worse each year. The kooks are our future."
For a glimpse of the future, read High Weirdness by Mail.