artstrike 1 9 9 0 - PhotoStatic Magazine - Detritus

N O T R E P R O D U C T I O N Retrofuturism Nº10
Probably not.
Personally I have been doing a lot of thinking about
the magic phrase “No meat in a brownie”. It’s something
that speaks volumes to those of us who have
spent time on the metaphysical circuit, the more so
because it often refers to the infamous “No meat in a
brownie” channeling episode, something that took
place last year in Winnepeg. Nowadays, whenever I
speak to a New Age group I find myself invariably
being asked, “How could a professional channeler
allow such a thing to happen?” or, even more frequently,
“What happened?” Well, the exact circumstances
are hazy; suffice it to say that last year sometime,
the well-known medium-and-channeler “Swarthy”
Turk Sellers was giving a demonstration of his
specialty (e.g. channeling Eskimo spirit voices) for a
small audience of two or three hundred, at the New
LIght Rainbow Center on the beach, and while he
was in his trance state he got stuck. Inasmuch as he
got stuck repeating the phrase “No meat in a
brownie… no meat in a brownie…” over and over
again like a broken record and nobody could figure
out how to bring him around, you may be sure that
consternation grew fire; a New Age audience is accustomed
to more upbeat, lovely fare such as Shirley
MacLaine or Lynn V. “Porsche Woman” Andrews
experiencing visions in the back of a Rolls, and the
spectre of “Swarthy” Turk stuck channeling this mys-
terious “no meat in a brownie” line with his eyes rolled
back in his head tended to bring everybody down in
a big way. Several of the more tender-minded and
susceptible members of the audience voiced the fear
that they felt like they might go mad if he didn’t stop.
Extricating “Swarthy” Turk from his loop or predicament
became the chief order of business. But nothing
seemed to work. Finally somebody thought to put
in a long distance call to Ringold Whorson, the Psychic
Gourmet, out in La Jolla, and ask his advice.
What could be done?
“Well,” said Whorson, “why not try feeding him
some brownies that have meat baked into them, to
see if that doesn’t snap him out of it.”
So that’s what they did, combining a pound of
ground round with a Duncan Hines package mix. It
made about a dozen meat-filled brownies. Loathsome,
indeed. But sure enough, after they had
crammed four or five of the things down his throat,
“Swarthy” Turk stopped repeating “no meat in a
brownie” and started gagging and making clawing
motions at his throat, and eventually he was returned
to a normal waking state, and apparently suffered no
ill effects—other than the fact that, as he himself told
me in a puzzled voice the other day, now anytime he
passes the stockyards or goes by a butcher shop he
experiences an overwhelming urge to talk, sing and
whistle like a parrot. [end
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