{20th Anniversary Edition} CON - Lumpen

117 

Independent Culture Art Politics Action 

20 YEARS 

magazine 

2 

1 

1 

number 117 

volume 19 

issue 3 

oct ‘11

Chicago • IL 

Geolofts 

3636 s Iron st 

mdwfair.org

CON— 

TRIBUTORS 

A WARD 

ADMIRAL PIP 

ALExA VISCIUS 

ALExANDER COCKBURN 

ANDY BURKHOLDER 

ANNA SHTEYNSHLEYGER 

ARON GENT 

ANDY KROLL 

BENjAMIN BALCOM 

BERNIE MCGOVERN 

CHUCK COLLINS 

CRAIG YU 

DANE MARTIN 

DAVID SCHUTTER 

DEVENING PROjECTS 

DHEIMES MOURA 

EDIE FAKE 

ELEANOR BALSON 

EMMA KRIELKAMP 

FELIx STALDER 

FRANCO BIFO BERARDI 

GEORGE LAKOFF 

GUILHERME KRAMER 

GWEN INFUSINO 

HADUHI SzUKIS 

jASON OVERBY 

jEREMIAH CHIU 

jOE TALLARICO 

jONATHAN RUFF 

jONATHAN KROHN 

jULIAN ASSANGE 

KATHERINE WALKER 

LESLIE WEIBELER 

LIzz HICKEY 

MAx MORRIS 

MIKE WHITNEY 

PHILIP KOTLER 

PAUL CRAIG ROBERTS 

RACHEL HEWITT 

RICKY SALSBERRY 

RENATA GRAW 

REUBEN KINCAID 

RYAN TRAVIS CHRISTIAN 

SCOTT NEWMAN 

SLAVOj ŽIŽEK 

TONY WIGHT GALLERY 

TRUBBLE CLUB 

WESTERN ExHIBITIONS 

LUMPEN 

MAGAZINE 

EDITOR/PUBLISHER 

Ed Marszewski 

EdmarLumpen@gmail.com 

COPY EDITOR 

Caroline Liebman 

WORLD 

CORRESPONDENT 

Brian Meir 

ART DIRECTION 

Plural 

PHOTOGRAPHY 

Alexa Viscius 

COMICS EDITOR 

Joe Tallarico 

TECHNOLOGY 

Brunerd.com 

1984 

Mike Evans 

1984 

Mike Evans 

GUILT BY ASSOCIATION 

Ken Zawacki 

LUMPEN REGULARS 

Brian Mier 

Renay Kerkman 

THANKS 

The Marszewski Clan, 

Alexa Viscius 

The Olson Family, 

& you, rabble rouser. 

ADVERTISING INQUIRIES 

EdmarLumpen@gmail.com 

LUMPEN HEADQUARTERS 

960 W 31st St 

Chicago, IL 60608 

U$A 

(773) 837.0145 

www.lumpen.com 

www.lumpenmagazine.com 

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{20th Anniversary Edition} 

{TABLE OF CONTENTS} 

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36 38 40 42 44 46 48 

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2 3 

magazine 

2 YeaRS 

1 

1 

number 116 

volume 19 

issue 2 

march ’11

LUMPEN 

REmEmBER THIs 

by Leslie Stella 

I was sweating through my blazer, trying 

to sound not ridiculous amid the fuselage 

of the interviewer’s questions. He kept motioning 

me to sit nearer the mic every time 

I opened my mouth, which crooked my neck 

at an unnatural angle. I began to strangle 

on my own words. This is what it’s like to 

be hung, I thought, this is what I’d look 

like swinging from a gibbet—I’m the kind 

of person who uses the word “gibbet”—and 

I overtalked with this incredible pressure 

against my larynx until I almost passed out 

in a haze of get-me-high asphyxiation. The 

radio host’s dazed expression signaled me 

to stop. 

It was Rick Kogan’s talk show, “The 

Sunday Papers” on WGN Radio, about 

a hundred years ago. My memory of it is 

sketchy, but I do remember the sweating, the 

incoherence, the blazer. My God, the blazer. 

I might as well have just slapped a mustache 

on my face. 

“So when did Lumpen actually begin?” 

Rick asked. 

I answered in my robot voice, which 

became my trademark and the reason radio 

has never invited me to return. “In 1991. By 

Chris and Ed. In Champaign. A result of 

the Gulf War.” 

“Really?” Poor Rick tried to extract 

some kernel of interest from my verbal vomit, 

digging through it like a bum in a Dumpster. 

“Tell me about it.” 

Robot. In the terror of public speaking, 

I merely rearrange past sentences. “It 

started in 1991. At U of I. It was just Chris 

and Ed then. Lumpen was a reaction to the 

Gulf War.” 

He looked at me encouragingly. 

Can you suffocate on your own stupidity? 

“They were…against it.” 

Some time later, I stumbled from the 

studio into the hallway, where Chris waited 

for me, looking as dazed as Rick Kogan. 

“Don’t say anything,” I warned, striding 

past him. 

He tagged behind. “You should have 

mentioned how the magazine began at U of I 

in 1991, with just me and Ed.” 

It was not a panic attack, not by a long 

shot, but still I craved the fresh bus exhaust 

in the air outside the studio. I gulped down 

lungfuls. Chris caught up with me, clapped 

me lightly on the shoulder. 

“I like your blazer,” he said. 

“Oh, blow me,” I replied wearily, 

climbing into his 1989 Dodge Shadow. 

We got back to the Lumpen House on 

Armitage and Rockwell by noon and woke 

up Ed. He lay pulsing like a larva in Little 

Korea, our nickname for his bedroom, where 

the furnace was located, where he turned the 

thermostat up to 85, where he slept nude under 

an extremely furry blanket printed with 

a giant tiger’s face. 

“Hey, man,” he said, feeling around 

for his glasses. I never liked seeing Ed without 

his glasses. It seemed to make him more 

nude. “Oh no, did I sleep through the radio 

thing? How’d it go?” 

“Fantastic,” Chris lied. 

“Awesome.” Ed held up his hand. I 

tried to high-five him but missed. 

He slithered out from under his blanket. 

“Freezing in this hell-hole,” he muttered, 

turning up the thermostat, which 

would one day be broken in a fury by an enraged 

Lumpen sick of the astronomical heating 

bills. I took off my blazer, armpits ringed 

with dried-on sweat, while Ed went to pee 

without closing the bathroom door because 

there was no bathroom door. 

Chris chuckled. “Heh heh…you owe 

me.” Well, there’s loyalty among Lumpens. 

So I married him; two kinds of payback, 

when you really think about it. 

I was sweating through a T-shirt early 

on in soccer season, watching my kids from 

the sidelines with the other parents (nobody 

says “soccer mom” anymore; we are all expected 

to chip in and root on and attend 

everything). Ninety degrees this first Saturday 

of September. Both children run with 

the packs but not close to the ball, avoiding 

contact with others as much as possible, 

which I admire. Luckily, the other team parents 

are not screamers. They keep one eye on 

the game while chatting or drinking steaming 

coffee from paper cups. Once in a while I 

hear a cheerful “Yay!” from across the field. 

Two women near me are talking about 

work. I hear them use a lot of office jargon. 

Words like “reorg” and “touch base” and 

“bandwith.” Instinctively, I want to move 

away from this sound. 

Today’s Snack Dad has flouted convention 

by bringing Oreos instead of fruit for 

the kids. He asks where Chris is this morning, 

and I think of my husband, alone in our 

house, and I feel a quiet stab of envy. Children 

converge on us for a few short minutes, 

gobbling up the mid-game Oreos amid the 

pursed disapproval of the health moms. I notice 

mine lagging as they return to the field, 

casting plaintive looks over their shoulders at 

me. I recognize those expressions that ask, 

Is it time to go home yet? I lift my shoulders 

slightly and say, “Soon,” but they are far 

away and I do not know if they can hear me. 

The Snack Dad and I talk about 

our absent spouses. He knows Chris, but 

couldn’t really know him, since he doesn’t 

know Lumpen. He asks where Chris and I 

originally met. 

“We used to work at a magazine together 

in the city,” I say. “A long time ago.” 

I hear this question a lot. But not once 

in my suburban career has anyone gone on 

to ask what the name of the magazine was, 

or what it was about. Just as well, because 

how could I describe Lumpen to an outsider, 

to a non-Lumpen? How could I mention the 

articles on flying saucers and corporate voodoo 

and political discord without describing, 

in excruciating detail, the Lumpen House, 

the benefits thrown at the Empty Bottle, the 

Lumpen Circus, the nude run through the 

Coyote Art Fair, our own political faction 

(the Boring Theoretical Party), and all of the 

Lumpens themselves? How wonderful it was 

all those years ago to never hear office jargon; 

but how discouraging to be paid in scones. 

I used to hear different questions from 

people who knew us back then, people who 

asked, “Whatever happened to Lumpen?” 

and “Is it still around?” and “Why did you 

leave?” And I don’t have neat answers to 

those questions, so I am glad I am only asked 

by my friends and not grilled about it on live 

radio. 

But I remember this: long nights doing 

layout with Ed and Chris and longer 

conversations on the roof of the Lumpen 

House, from where the neighbor’s dog leapt 

to his death one day. In the midst of all the 

controversies and craziness, Lumpen was our 

cause, a calling, a drive; that message, those 

words, with those people. It both ended and 

continued, friendships ended and continued, 

and messages grew beyond the 72 pages of 

our family magazine, taking on a vibrant life 

of their own. 

I love Ed and Chris, and I love 

Lumpen. It was a comet, a blaze of light in 

the night sky over Armitage and Rockwell. I 

remember this. 

Mercifully, soccer ends and we three 

trudge happily back to the car, heading for 

home and then—who knows? The day is open 

before us, wide and limitless. 

Leslie Stella is the author of three novels. Her 

fourth novel, a young adult title, will be published 

by Marshall Cavendish in 2013. Please 

visit facebook/leslie-stella. 

BACK IN THE DAY 

by Steve Eckardt 

So, yeah, hats off to Lumpen for still being 

here 20 years on — and even more to you, a 

priceless reader no matter when you came 

in. 

Now settle round the fire, people, 

the esteemed editor wants a little about 

Lumpen’s early days. So here’s a story or two. 

THEm 

It’s been 17 years since I first walked into 

Lumpen HQ, just back from covering the 

Zapatista uprising in Mexico, me clutching 

photos of peasants machine-gunned by the 

federales –damning exposé shots photos no 

major publisher would run (except for one 

sweet spread in Paris Match). 

Me: I was doing periodic freelance journalism, 

drawn to the hot spots even as I was 

raising two little daughters and working as a 

CTA rail mechanic. 

Them – the Lumpen people—they were 

all over the place, HQ humming. Tats and 

weird hair, but no BO (ok, almost). 

Me already a little grizzled—and a stone 

Red—and them open-minded. 

But all of us with a determination to 

publish—in bloody print, mind you—to get 

stuff out. Truth for most of us. Art for some 

others. 

Of course some of the original 

crew are in suburbia now. This is what 

America does to rebel-minded people... 

though it’s also got the bullet for for the 

real revos (think Malcolm X, MLK, 

George Jackson, and Fred Hampton). 

ANCIENT TImEs 

So let’s go back almost twenty years, 

back to the old days, back when everything 

were so different. It was like this: 

Back then we’d just gotten rid of a President 

named Bush and had a supposedlypromising 

Democrat –called by many “the 

first Black president”– in office. 

Of course he set about doing shit Bush 

could never get away with like ending welfare 

and attacking social security. Plus launching 

a couple new wars: “sanctions” and a “no 

fly zone” against Iraq that killed more than 

400,000 Iraqis (most of them children) and 

bombing Yugoslavia –just to protect national 

security, bring freedom and save lives, mind 

you. 

Speculators who’d gamed the savingsand-loan 

banking system were given trillions 

of public money to cover their losses. 

4 5 

Credit collapses (then California’s Orange 

County municipal bonds) threatened 

the world financial system. 

The dispossessed toppled the old order 

in an oil-rich country (Mexico, then), standing 

firm despite being massacred, 

Republicans frothed, tied up Congress, 

and demanded massive tax-cuts and subsidies 

for the America’s wealthy job-creators 

– the “first Black president” capitulating to 

them, and driving through draconian cuts on 

poor and working people. (Hey, he was just 

looking out for the good of the country, it was 

out of money back then,) 

Nonetheless opposing the merciless record 

of the Dem who replaced Bush was considered 

aiding and abetting the Republican 

monsters. 

A speculative bubble had grown, and 

people were worried that a loan default or a 

bankruptcy might bring down the world financial 

system. 

Have-not countries were being squeezed 

by lenders to gut their social services and to 

surrender their resources to foreign privatizers. 

Yeah, that’s the way it was way back 

then, back in the day. 

Hard to imagine things being like that, 

right? 

Steve Eckardt is a CTA railcar mechanic. 

Archives of his writing—and much more— 

are at SeeingRed.com—though he says go to 

TheMilitant.com instead. Write to him at 

Seckardt@aol.com. 

WHO Is ADmIRAL PIP? 

by Admiral Pip 

During the Lumpen salad years of the mid- 

90s, it seemed as if everyone used a pseudonym. 

I was an intern at In These Times, 

trying to get my first article published. Jim 

McNeil was the managing editor at the 

time and several people involved with the 

Baffler were on staff. I tried my best but 

wasn’t much of a writer yet. I had just returned 

to Chicago after 4 years in Brazil 

teaching English and living in various ghettos 

on a couple hundred bucks a month. 

McNeil kept rejecting my articles, kindly 

pointing out that In These Times was basically 

an American news magazine. In rejecting 

one short piece about a multi-million 

dollar fraud he said, “doesn’t this kind of 

thing happen all the time down there?” 

When I finally managed to publish my first 

article, based on an email conversation with 

Linus Torvalds, copy editor George Hodak 

changed every single sentence. One morning 

I was sitting in the break room drinking 

coffee when Hodak wandered in. “I’ve 

been reading your stuff,” he said, “and 

I was thinking. Why don’t you send it to 

Lumpen. Ed Marsewski used to be an intern 

here too.” 

I had an old article lying around that 

I wrote when I was living in Brazil during 

the pre-email days about spending an afternoon 

drinking with the notorious train robber 

and ersatz Sex Pistols vocalist Ronald 

Biggs. Ed was wildly enthusiastic about it. 

I later learned that Ed is just a wildly enthusiastic 

guy in general but at the time it made 

me feel special. The enthusiasm was contagious. 

I quickly wrote an article about going 

out to the West Side with a friend who was 

scoring heroin. It was a spatial analysis of a 

large, nomadic street pharmacy with dozens 

of employees. Nobody at Lumpen was using 

their real name. There was Charmain 

Thar, Chairman Pharr, Molnar, Che Maraschino, 

Leslie Stella. I decided that I might 

as well join the crowd. I was in a bedroom 

space band called Edible Sea Worm, named 

after a kind of food gathered only by women 

during full moons in Indonesia. It made a 

nice name. After a few articles I shortened 

it to E.S. Worm. As the Easy Listening 

lifestyle began to take off I changed it to Ian 

Al-Sabbah, combining Ian Fleming with a 

15th Century hashish assassin. Throughout 

this period I would also occasionally submit 

things with no byline whatsoever. I believed 

in the Lumpen counter-hegemony project 

and liked being an anonymous contributor 

to the team. Sometimes I would use my real 

name. I would do this if it was something I 

was particularly proud of, like my article on 

Daley’s CTA cuts, or if it was something 

criticizing the CIA or FBI so as not to be 

accused of being a chicken. 

In 1999 I had a falling out with Ed. I 

disappeared to a city called São Luis on an 

island off of the coast of Northeastern Brazil 

where I tried to lead a normal life drinking 

and womanizing like the rest of the natives. 

In 2002 Liz Armstrong wrote me to say 

that she was taking over as Lumpen editor. 

She asked me to write something and suggested 

that I bury the hatchet with Ed. It 

was an offer I couldn’t refuse, mainly because 

of the compromising secret dossier that Liz 

had been guarding on me all along (“I’ll put 

your balls in a vice so fast it will make your 

head spin,” was the phrase that she used at 

the time). I was down on my luck and fed up 

with my life. Liz’s email was a godsend. I 

asked her for help creating a new penname. I 

wanted it to be something vaguely decadent, 

a gringo on the lam. I remembered the legendary 

1920s circus dwarf Admiral Pip and 

Liz added the title “Lord Sir”. She said, 

“you are such a weirdo you should just write 

about anything that you are doing at that 

moment,” and I was off. 

Having a good pseudonym gives you 

the flexibility of not having to always tell the 

truth. With a pseudonym you can exaggerate 

and get a better laugh without having to 

worry about being cross-examined by a bitter 

Oprah or a bloated Rosie O’Donnell about 

facts. Over the past 8 years, being Admiral 

Pip has brought me great joy. Despite not 

living there for years, I still miss Chicago 

like crazy and feel like every Pip article is a 

love letter to my hometown. Lately, however, 

something strange has happened. As my 

first and second marriages fell apart due to 

my own philandering and general naughty 

behavior, my inner sense of being began to 

fade as Pip began to occupy an ever larger 

section of my brain, my heart, my ego and 

my… As the years went by, longer and more 

detached from Chicago, I forgot how to 

speak English. The last time I was up there 

I was accused of being Croatian. For some 

reason, the nautical preppie look began to appeal 

to me. I began to shrink in stature and 

develop a penchant for wearing overcoats. 

My nose gradually shifted from bone to fur 

to plastic. I bought a boat and moved to Gloria 

Marina in Rio de Janeiro, running dope 

for the Italians with trained dolphin. I hired 

a team of Amazonian she-males for security 

purposes. I have learned how to play the 

Cuica and practice obscure rituals to weaken 

the spirits of my enemies. I drink my morning 

coffee from a human skull. I have become 

surly and mean tempered and I have turned 

into Admiral Pip!

THE POWER OF 

PENDANT GARDE 

by Liz Armstrong 

When we think about the future, usually we 

jump right to future-y things like outer space 

and technology and new life systems—how 

they may advance, transform, mutate, or 

re-organize in a way to promote ease, clarity, 

and peace, or bring on crashing doom. 

What we forget is that our nervous system 

is the mother host, the server. All technologies 

and explorations advance only through 

our ability to utilize and process them. So 

the future actually is inside our bodies, in 

how we absorb and transmit information. 

The technology we utilize for this—whether 

gadget or psychic phenomenon or something 

in between—is simply a tool. 

For every effective website you see, every 

new piece of equipment you use, there are 

countless people behind the scenes who built 

them according to statistics regarding our 

patterns of observation and attentiveness. 

This isn’t paranoid fantasy theorizing about 

Big Brother, this is actual simple fact, and 

it’s nothing to be scared of. In fact, it’s reason 

to celebrate, as it’s concrete validation of our 

true power: our perception. 

Many of us who live our lives according 

to rules of synchronicity, or by following 

“signs,” may think we need symbols, archetypes, 

and events to guide us. These things 

become our torches when exploring the metaphorical 

caves of reality. Though truly, the 

data relies on us to interpret it effectively 

and correctly. Divining “what could be” via 

statistics, art, or interstitial methods of information 

gathering is to relinquish personal 

power. The signifiers do not have their own 

authority—it is us, our minds, our curiosity, 

our willingness to keep our eyes open, and 

our ability to connect the dots. 

As we collect and process information, 

it eventually begins to inform some kind of 

meaning to us as individuals. And as that 

meaning becomes an activated motivational 

force in our lives, that is intent. Intention is 

not prediction, it is the path we take to get 

to a destination. When we shape our intent, 

we shape our destiny. Intention is an agent 

of the future. 

Yet to fetishize the future is to give 

up on the present. Think about it: Has the 

future ever delivered what we planned for? 

We don’t have to assign value of “positive” 

or “negative” at all here—simply answer: Did 

you ever really imagine that would happen, 

and that it would unfold the way it did? With 

very few exceptions, I’m sure the answer was 

“no.” 

The unknown is our primordial resource; 

it’s potential at its most potent. Why 

must we know, or try to? Succumb to the 

present, where what comes next is a mystery. 

The avant-garde is the pursuit of outrunning 

boundaries, outlining the distant edges 

of unknown. Let’s keep in mind that discovery 

always takes place in the present. Keep 

close watch on the present, the “during,” and 

you are a practicing member of the pendantgarde. 

When you stay here long enough, you 

know nothing except that the next step leads 

to an abyss, and then it is time to bust out 

the champagne! You are now playing with 

the material the future is made of. When 

we are comfortable in having absolutely no 

idea what is going to happen next, we are in 

a prime position for it to unfold in a way that 

will exceed our wildest dreams. So why try 

to control what’s to come? Knowing the future 

is boring. 

What, then, is the point of prediction? 

Well, an oracle concocts a clearer narrative of 

the present, to make sense of right now. And 

this awareness will transform the arc of tomorrow. 

So in a way, to imagine the future 

in precise detail is to give up on the present. 

What is true is happening now. 

The “what if” in futuristic dreaming 

gives birth to a child named “and then.” And 

then and then and then. And then…what? 

Is it true? What is true? What will happen 

to me? What is next? This is a cycle of rumination 

that leads to sorrow, worry, and, 

ultimately, distrust in the self and our complete 

control over all that we build and create 

from the seed planted in our mind to tangible 

manifestation or resolution. Delete your expectations. 

Still, it’s fun to get freaky and talk 

about what’s to come, right? To toss around 

ideas of what could develop, what might exist 

someday. Because let’s get real, if we simply 

said, “Let’s just live here now, man,” all 

Ram Dass-style, our imaginations would 

shrivel up and die. We’d still be using dialup 

to connect our modems, or perhaps even 

communicating via pictograms in a cave. 

Future-thinking people like Ray Kurzweil—or 

at least his theories—are exciting because 

they give us reason to advance our intellect, 

get our synapses snapping, and keep 

our minds loose and swinging free. Wild 

new stuff delivers that feeling when some unknown 

door in your mind realizes it’s on a 

hinge and begins to swing open—that feeling 

of being completely blown apart, and compelled 

to chase down more. That is the true 

purpose of intellectualizing the future. It isn’t 

to actually force it into fruition. 

I frequently have what I call technology 

dreams, where I am using new forms of 

technology. Stuff like an ultra smart phone, 

which when turned sideways becomes a remote 

control/gaming device and has a lens 

that can project movies or games onto a wall. 

Or a master database online using spiders 

and bots to collate every single mention of 

any individual, which then forms an easy-toread 

narrative—think a wiki of the entirety of 

the web—and how this system creates new celebrities 

similar to the way YouTube has created 

its own sensations. Here’s another one: 

organically phosphorescent lamps that glow 

on bio matter. 

I was talking about this with Astral 

Eyes, an experimental collage and sound and 

life artist based in Los Angeles, and he said 

he’s experienced a similar phenomenon. He’s 

had a dream where, in his words: 

“Technology becomes evolved, information 

is now stored not in silicon, but in 

radiant fields of electromagnetic energy. 

These fields are fixated to the owner’s own 

EM field. There, the electrons of information 

are shared, creating a cellular information 

bond. Communication has now reached 

its pinnacle, as instant electron bonds are 

made around the globe, creating the world 

mind. Everything can now be broken down 

in to EM information units, brands take on 

a whole new meaning. Nike becomes a bond 

of information that your body can evolve to. 

Even loved ones and pets may be stored. My 

cat was on me, a single cell of my cat was 

placed in the EM processors and formed a 

simulated cat field that I was able to walk 

around with.” 

What would the future be like without 

awesome kooky shit like this, which we can 

enjoy right now? 

When we have an open mind, and 

are open to expanding our methods of perception, 

we are are shaping the future. The 

future then becomes whatever you want. So 

what might the future look like if we were to 

shape it properly? First, let’s do the shaping. 

The real magic is in the now. 

6 7 

ON 11/11/11 

in collaboration with Half Acre Brewing Company, we are releasing a 

commemorative Lumpen 20th Anniversary beer called The Chairman. The 

Chairman is an Imperial Red Ale created to remember the men and women who 

worked on Lumpen magazine and became Chairmen of the Boring Theoretical 

Party (BTP). 

The Boring Theoretical Party began in the 1990’s. It was Lumpen magazine’s 

response to the boring, and uh, theoretically inclined armchair lefties. We started 

a “Worker’s Newspaper” edited by Chairman Thar, our beloved leader. Our 

symbols were the Armadillo and the Hoe. We had a theme song, a salute (raised 

fist while yawning), and we promoted that everyone should be the Chairman of 

their own Party. 

You have a chance to bring a Chairman to the Party. Get a bottle (or three) at 

Half Acre Brewing Company or Maria’s Packaged Goods & Community Bar on 

November 11, 2011.

The Lumpen Times started in Champaign, Illinois while we were at the University of 

Illinois. A couple dozen friends show up to an official meeting to create a publication and 

we rock the first issue out in the Spring of 1990. It was a naive attempt at creating an 

alternative zine and it was fun. In the next year we release 6 issues, focusing much energy 

on Gulf War One. The war MADE us do it. We cut and pasted the issues together, using 

the U of I’s sate of the art Mac SEs and laser printers. We duplicated them at the Kinkos 

where sympathizing agents gave us extraordinary discounts. 

The Lumpen Times 

1991 

8 9 

In 1992 seduced by the promise of alternative media, Edmar moves to Chicago and 

interns at the only alt paper in town, In These Times, a weekly Democratic Socialist 

magazine. The gig was cool but interning was pretty boring. He meets some hippies, 

activists, artists and progressive kids in town they start a free publication they name 

The Paper. We rented a cube at the In These Times office and had one too many 

meetings discussing font sizes. The Paper was cool, but got lame fast. We produce 6 

or 7 issues. Edmar quits and convinces Chris Molnar to come to Chicago to start 

Lumpen again. 

The Paper 

1992

Chris Molnar moves up from Champaign and he and Edmar restart the rag. They release 

issue #7 (serializing the issue where it left off in Champaign) in May 1993. They rent a 

pad at 2558 W Armitage and kick it out. Marco Tommaschett creates the new Lumpen 

logo. We all hang at Myopic Books, owned by Joe Judd. Friends from Champaign would 

continue to contribute texts and images. More would move to Chicago and participate. 

The Lumpen Times : Repremiere 

May 1993 # 7 

10 11

We publish our first controversial muckraking article: “The Conspiracy That Won’t Go Away: 

How the Moonies, Media and FBI Derailed the Irish Liberation Front in Chicago”; written 

by the legendary Diamond Jack. The article outed a couple of agent provocateurs that destabilized 

many activist communities in Chicago. The accused called us incessantly and told us that 

our lives were in danger and after having our cars mysteriously sabotaged we got paranoid and 

had the offices swept for bugs by the Active Detection Agency. No bugs were found. We ran 

part 2 of the article. They stopped calling. 


June 1993 # 8 

12 13


July 1993 # 9 

14 15

By this point we have created quite a stir and have met a bunch of new cholos at Myopic Books. 

Leslie Stella, Andy Sickle, Niko Woideck, Dave DeRosa, Sam Smucker, Lothar (Pat) Jones, 

Kelly Kuvo, Stephen Svymbersky from Quimbys, and Wendall Walker join the Lumpen 

team. Andy Sickle moves into the Lumpen house. We all became best friends and family. 

Everyone started having a regular monthly column. At this point we printed 20,000 copies and 

distributed them city-wide. Lot’s of love and hate mail, controversy, and craziness ensue as we 

battle with our enemies in the gentrification debate. Businesses stop advertising and we turn 

desperate looking for salesmen. 


1993 

Volume 2 / No. 12 

16 XVI 

17 XVII



18 19

We are so desperate for an ad salesman that we let this very odd man, Saud, sell ads for us. 

He alienates businesses and freaks Lumpen staffers out. Plus he smells. We fire him, but he 

refuses to quit selling ads for us. We print this warning in the magazine to let everyone know 

to keep away. 



20 21

The Chicago Tribune calls us “Anarchists with barcodes”, and derails Lumpen in the headline 

“Slacker Mag Has No Ethics”. By this point Lumpen HQ is swarming with activity. 

Computer scientist Jorn Barger begins to live under our stairs. He writes an internet column 

and feeds our paranoia by teaching us to read Listservs. He goes on to invent the concept of 

Blogging, starting the first weblog in the US (Seriously). Lothar (Chairman Thar) Jones 

moves in. We all enjoy Misery burritos. video games and conspiracy theories. 



22 23



24 25

We really hated Clinton. Not for his sexcapades but for his politics. Basically he helped usher 

in the Neoliberal World Order we live under now. He helped deliver the Democratic Party 

to the corporations and made this a one party state. But in retrospect he was a lot better than 

Bush I and left a budget surplus when he left office. 



26 27

What almost became a running joke, we run the first of many interviews with Noam Chomsky, 

every good leftist’s patron saint. 



28 29

Our first of many Sex Issues is released. Lee Pembleton reveals “His Vasectomy” in this issue. 

The sex issues made a lot of people angry and made a lot of people laugh. Our friend Rafer 

Weigl (now Local WLS Chanel 7 Sportscaster) penned his tale about “How Lyle Menendez 

Stole My Girl”. Truly surreal. 


Volume 3 / Issue 26 

30 31 

We also started doing Parody issues of other local publications. Here we parody The Chicago 

Reader’s poor coverage of gentrification issues. The Baffler, Punk Planet, New City, Chicago 

Magazine and a host of other now defunct publications were also vilified and celebrated. 


Volume 3 / Issue 28

One of Leslie Stella’s awesome chart and diagram pieces. We still love conspiracies.. 

Lumpen 


32

It’s hard to imagine in the age of 140 character messages that people wrote letters to the editors 

of publications. Here are some typical letters from readers. The BTP is featured on the cover 

of this issue. 



34 35

We meet a lot of super talented writers and publishers of zines much like our own. We ask them 

to start a column or contribute to the family magazine. One of our favorite Irregulars was P 

Lewis Rosenberg who writes about being in the service industry in his Not My Station column. 



36 37

In 1995 we switched our tabloid format to a glossy cover stock and went to a standard 8.5 x 

11" magazine size. We had national distribution in bookstores like Borders and Tower Records 

where it cost $3 an issue. It was still free in Chicago. It looked more pro, had nice 90s fonts. 

By this time the Boring Theoretical Party appeared. It was our response to the boring, and uh, 

theoretically inclined armchair lefties we felt were part of the problem. We started the 

“Worker’s Newspaper” led by Chairman Thar. Our symbols were the Armadillo and the Hoe. 

We had a theme song, a salute (raised fist while yawning), and everyone could be a Chairman. 

The BTP would be featured over the next few years concluding with the abduction of 

Chairman Thar and the dissolution of the party. There was even an exhibit of the BTP and 

Chairman Thar by a fan in Berlin. BTP was one of the finest performance art pieces ever 

created in the history of Lumpen. 


Volume 4 / No. 7/8 

38 39

August, 1996 — It’s the pre-game show to the Democratic Convention in Chicago. Lumpen 

uses this issue to publish a guide to the counter-convention, protests, marches and maps to all 

the action. We are involved with the horribly named Festival of Lights concert series in the 

bandshell of Grant Park. But hell we programmed a shit load of bands and actions over 3 days. 

In the issue we decry the measures that would be used to isolate dissent during the convention. 

Measures by today’s World of Terror standards seem rather tame. Despite the oppression from 

the state, it was an incredible time. Thousands of anarchists converged on Chicago and held 

a black parade through Wicker Park, the precursor to Indymedia was created to aid internet 

activism and citizen news-gathering. Most of Chicago’s various progressive factions learned to 

get along, and we pied Abby Hoffman’s son, Andrew, for being a traitor to the people. 



40 41

Follow up to the convention. Diamond Jack’s Underground Weather Report and the Lumpen 

Guide to the American Class System. 



42 43

Lumpen turns Five. This is how history looked from back then. 



44 45

By August 1997 the Lumpens leave the original Lumpen HQ on Armitage Avenue and we 

move to new digs in a weird office building on the corner of Chicago and Ashland. It’s very 

noir. Our old landlord Lionikis finally booted us out and we left a Chicken Bomb under his 

stairs. In this issue we are still covering gentrification issues. This parody of the Wicker Park 

Chamber of Commerce guide to the neighborhood. 



46 47

The emergence of the Easy Era begins and The Easy Listener comes out, sparking a new wave 

of insane loft parties at the factory space, The Lab. We start releasing Lumptronic CD compilations 

of electronic music made in Chicago and do big spectacles like the Mind Control Sex 

Party which coincided with the release of another Sex Issue. Rev. Forestter Cobalt’s “I Faked 

Gay to get Girls and So Can You” is a must read. 



48 49



50 51

In Lumpen’s seventh year, 1998, Leslie Stella leaves the 

mag. We still have a small part time paid staff but it is the 

end of an era. In a few issues we decide its over and Chris 

Molnar leaves the magazine as well. Around this time Supersphere.com 

is started. The site is basically Lumpen on 

acid on the interweb and we hire every Lumpen contributor 

in town. We open an office on Division St. and one 

in Amsterdam and Supersphere becomes huge. Reverend 

Forestter and Edmar crack out a few issues while learning 

how to love the web. This period is blurry. Lumpen’s 

monthly publishing schedule is dead. We start coming out 

a few times a year. 

By the turn of the century global capital has aroused the 

anger of people all over the world. Almost monthly gatherings 

of protesters at G8 Summits, WTO gatherings and 

other international acronyms has been met with resistance. 

The internet has been an incredible connector and organizer 

of these efforts. The November,1999 Seattle World 

Trade protests became a major watershed moment for the 

left in America. Lumpen comes out a few times a year in 

2000 documenting the movement of movements. Supersphere.com 

records underground music concerts ten times 

a week, but a bunch of misfit creatives with no business experience 

see the writing on the wall. By this time we have 

over 1500 one hour concerts of underground bands online, 

hundreds of short films and dozens of media partners. We 

meet billionaires and the dot con men of the world. 

52 53 

Bush “wins” the November 2000 election. Supersphere.com crashed and burned the previous 

May. We unleash Lumpen issue #81 with John Dee’s Coup 2K, an investigative piece that 

examines the history behind the stealing of the 2000 election. The New Dark Ages have begun. 

Old U of I pal, Cowboy Joe, joins the Lumpen which goes back into bimonthly publication. 


# 81

In the summer of 2001 lumpen turns ten and MTV starts shooting Real World Chicago. 

Housed in the former Urbus Orbus cafe building, residents and activists organize actions and 

protests against the further commodification of the neo-bohemia of Wicker Park. We start 

the Free the Real World 7 Campaign. At this time everyone is aware that President George 

Bush is a complete idiot. He’s on vacation almost 1/3 of his time as President, Dick Cheney is 

embroiled in energy scandals, and resistance against their stealing the election is growing. 



or #82 

54 55

In 2004 Lumpen magazine has essentially become a manual for creative activism. Version 

festival is attracting educators, activists, artists and freaks from around the world. Our annual 

convergences, the burgeoning indy art space scene and other cultural fronts formed to resist the 

Death culture of the Bush Dark Ages keep us busy. In issue #91 we view the US as a publicly 

traded corporation. Michael Freimuth creates this handy Annual Report. 


Number #91 

56 57 

Liz Armstrong now edits Lumpen. Living through the Bush ages is wearing on us. We prepare 

a double cover issue extolling people to Give Up! or Keep on Keeping’ on. We warn of dirty 

tricks in the upcoming election. The wars look like they will never end. 


Number #92

Creative Art Ensemble’s Steve Kurtz is accused of creating a biological warfare laboratory. 


Number #93 

58 59 

Spring 2005. We regroup. We hold Version>05 throughout the city. Michael Freimuth 

organizes the Lumpenthology Show, where graphic designers create images of resistance. 


Number #95

Aya La Fillette leaves the country and starts corresponding with us via her Home far Away 

column. That fall we hold a month long Select Media Fesitval in Bridgeport. It’s themed 

Community of the Future. We create an experimental culture zone on Morgan Street renting 

out four storefronts to open a Myopic books, Quimbys’s bookstore and a few galleries. We 

have a huge factory where we create the Secret Histories of Chicago Museum and declare the 

next wave of visual artists in our New Chicagoans show. 


Number #97 

60 61 

Underground celebrity, Party Steve reports delights the scenesters, and we do an Extraordinary 

Rendition fashion shoot. Aaron Pederson designs his finest issue of Lumpen yet. By this point 

Lumpen has won several national and international editorial design awards. It will continue to 

do so to this very day. 


Number #99

Our 15th anniversary issue numbered 100, finds us reprinting another version of our history. 

Logan Bay does one of his amazing illustrations for the cover. 


Number #100 

62 63

Destiny lead us to Bridgeport. Now we own a building. We take over an abandoned building 

and transform it into the Co-Prosperity Sphere. Select Media Festival 5 takes place in the 

dirty husk of the first floor. Rachael Olson makes this comic identifying this as our new center 

of the universe. We settle in. fix stuff and create our new utopian/dystopian dream space. 

The hedonism turns to barbarism in about a year. 


Number #101 

64 65

Dungeons and Dragons makes a come back in April 2007 During Version Festival 7. Long 

time contributor and friend, Al Burian, explains the fantasy as we hold the We’re Rollin’ 

They’re Hatin’ exhibition at the C-PS. We declare an Art War on the Artropolis that year, 

organizing an army to surround the Merchandise Mart. We demonstrate the diversity of 

Chicago’s other Art Worlds, claim victory and LARP on into the future. 


Number #104 

66 67

We send secret agent Peter Miles Bergman to the 2008 Democratic Convention, where he gets 

in a lot of trouble. We also print our the Subjective Atlas of Bridgeport. Part of our ongoing effort 

to bring Bridgeport to the Future. Obama wins the election. We celebrate. We dream again. 


Number #110 

68 69

It didn’t take long to figure out Obama is just another politician. We warn of the fact that 

Obama’s renewed war in Afganistan is not a good idea. Then there is all this kowtowing to 

corporate interests. Fooled again. 


Number #111 

70 71

By Version 09 our Immodest Proposals brought us the Bridgeport WPA projects, the Chicago 

Art Parade and a short stint by James Ewert Jr as Editor. The recession brings 99 problems and 

the bitch ain’t one. At this point history ends again. By 2010 Lumpen is reinvented again while 

Proximity, Materiel and a few other publications take up our time and space. 


Number #113 / 114 

The publication is now designed by Plural, it comes out two to three times a year in between 

other magazines. We celebrate our 20th anniversary by releasing a beer (called the Chairman) 

with our friends at Half Acre. We love beer. We take over the family’s bar and continue to work 

on making Bridgeport the community of the Future. Thanks for hanging in here with us kids. 

72 73 

©2011 Summit Brewing Co., St. Paul, MN. All rights reserved. 

To 25 years of 

independent thinkers. 

And drinkers. 

1986 2011 

summitbrewing.com 

November 18,2011 • Co-Prosperity Sphere • 3219 S Morgan St 

In the community of the future 

IMMERSE YOURSELF IN FLAVOR. 

FOUNDERS BREWING COMPANY. BREWED FOR US. ENJOYED BY EVERYONE. 

235 GRANDVILLE AVE SW GRAND RAPIDS, MI 49503 

WWW.FOUNDERSBREWING.COM

BUY OUR POTIONS AT 4257 N. LINCOLN AVE, CHICAGO 

HALFACREBEER.COM

BE A PART OF CHICAGO’S MOST 

EXCITING NEW MUSIC EXPERIENCE! 

MASON BATES 

ANNA CLYNE 

MEAD COMPOSERS-IN-RESIDENCE 

CLIFF COLNOT 

PRINCIPAL CONDUCTOR 

This season includes exciting performances featuring 

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago, Chicago Symphony 

Chorus and African composer and instrument builder 

Victor Gama. 

4 MONDAYS AT 7:00 

OCT.17/DEC.12/MAR.5/MAY.14 

@ HARRIS THEATER FOR MUSIC AND DANCE 205 E. Randolph Drive 

Meet the musicians at postconcert receptions with FREE food and drink. 

SUBSCRIPTION PRICES: 

[NEW] 

MusicNOW Plus: $100 Regular: $60 Student: $20 

Includes exclusive opportunities 

to meet composers, special happy 

hour events and premium seating. 

SYMPHONY CENTER PRESENTS 

MusicNOW 

Artists, prices and programs subject to change. 

music 

MusicNOW receives funding through a leadership grant from IRVING HARRIS FOUNDATION, Joan W. Harris. 

Major support is also provided by Cindy Sargent and the Sally Mead Hands Foundation. 

312-294-3000 • CSO.ORG 

Media Support: Food 

Sponsor: 

Beverage Sponsor: 

SEPTEMBE R 29, 2011—JANUA RY 

22, 2012 

smartmuseum.uchicago.edu Admission is always free.

The Community of the Future is a not so tongue-in-cheek reference to 

the burgeoning cultural scene in Bridgeport. Over the past few years 

a number of galleries, cultural spaces, restaurants and bars have quietly 

opened and are creating an enticing south side neighborhood to work, 

live and play in. Check it out yourself. Stop by Maria’s Packaged 

Goods & Community Bar at 960 W 31st Street and ask your bartender 

for directions and tips on where to go. 

Maria’s Packaged Goods & Community Bar, 960 West 31st Street, Chicago IL 60608 

PHONE: 773.890.0588 WEB: communitybar.wordpress.com 

STORE: 11AM to 2AM Sun. – Fri. AND 11AM –3AM Sat. BAR: 4 PM to 2AM Sun. – Fri. AND 4PM–3A M Sat. 

MARIA’S PACKAGED GOODS & COMMUNITY BAR COPYRIGHT 2010

{20th Anniversary Edition} CON - Lumpen

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