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One Laugh And Its Literature.
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This is a work of Cyber Punk Science Fiction, it's the story of a man who wrote a book about a statue that he wanted to build. It tells the story of the path that he may take to realize this dream. The title is a pun on the Big Bang Theory, just as reality as we know it exploded from a single point of matter Eons ago, so too does World Peace spring from the erection of the most Audacious Sculpture yet conceived.

The Big Bong Theory contains much that is Politically incorrect, this is because it is mainly a Satirical Comedy about the mercenary thought patterns and the cult of Personality that currently infests parts of this planet. Many sacred Cows are ruthlessly and messily slaughtered along the way. If you're the kind of person who's easily offended and you read this book and disagree with any or all of it then simply stop reading and get on with your life.

Before you can make an informed opinion on the contents of this book, you first have to read it and, since that is the general idea behind writing a book in the first place, now would be a good time to start.... ;O)--~

Preface or Preamble

Welcome to the shareware/ downloadable/ on-line/ electronic version of the Big Bong Theory. I no longer know how many thousands of people in how many countries (over 35 last time I counted) have been exposed to the Concept in various ways.

Many people have helped me expand the network of people who are committed to the creation of the symbol to world peace. The number of people who have gifted me a lift, a couch, a qwerty and/or a lung full of green freedom is beyond count, I thank each of you and can only add that all of your kindness will be repaid in kind when the Peace Pipe is built.

The basic premise is that this is written as a retrospective biography by the lead characters nieces in the year 2025, whilst the story is set in the "Right Now"/ "Immediate Future" the position taken by the "Author" is that all that happens is considered fact, well, that was the intent any way, I leave it up to you to judge. I would also like to point out that the character Glitter is just that, a character in a novel, if the population of this earth all want to live in a state of Peace we are ALL going to have to work towards it..... Remember if you laugh one time, it's literature.

Gary John Gray.


There are many possible futures,
this is just a happier version than others.

Words assembled by Gary John Gray...
ISBN# 0 646 24215 6...Copyright 1995...All rights Reserved.

Authors Note; As you read this you will notice that the style changes about quite a bit, this is due to the manner in which the information was assembled. I have tried to be as accurate as possible, but as always, history has a way of rewriting itself. The memories that people have of Glitter the man have been softened by time. By all accounts he was a true rebel who cared for little more than the ability to party, he was very much into quality of life and his style of living was, in the end, the reason he left us the way he did. We stuck here on Earth still wait to see if he ever made the transition from a biological entity into the electrically generated, multidimensional, antigravitational, light speed capable being he spent his life attempting to become. His legacy lives on in those who have read his poetry and prose. Much of what you are about to read has been garnered from among the millions of words that make up his diaries and journals. If you read from the original you come to terms with the fact that he considered himself a trapped and mis understood individual for most of his life. He was driven by a dream and all throughout his journals are poetic references to his desire to be understood. He believed in no God and loved to debate the question of their existence. Privately he was always sure that he would be able to solve the problem, believing that the answer was wrapped up like a ball of string inside his mind, but he could never find the logical starting point to commence the unraveling. He often wrote with despair of this failing, after years of pondering, the closest answer was that the ball of string was an extremely convoluted Moebius strip. He would also describe his thought processes as being like numerous parallel conveyor belts all moving at different speeds that he could traverse at will. It was often hard to talk to him, as if he was stranded off to one side, few people could understand him, hence the frequent references by others to his lack of sanity, he was ever ahead of his time, perhaps one of his greatest handicaps. He enjoyed one on one linear conversations and in the right conditions, with no distractions, he could take you on the wildest rides through histories past and futures possible, yet he always lived in the Now. He was a physically unimposing man of average height and appearance, fair skinned with reddish blonde hair, he drank Coffee almost continually. His reason for smoking Marijuana was that it made him feel ELSE, I still don't fully understand that! He was a true chameleon, always growing a beard and then shaving it off, he wore his hair in so many ways that it is impossible to catalogue, he was just different, yet he was a ordinary man, but there was also a certain indefinable something, something extra about him. My first impression of him was when he would come around to visit my parents, staying on their couch for a couple of days and then disappearing out into the world only to reappear at infrequent intervals. He was to many eyes an imperfect person, obsessed with his Art, he was unconcerned what other people thought of him, he coined a saying, "As soon as I stopped thinking what other people were thinking about me, the more time I had for thinking." He was always possessed of extraordinary good humor, he taught us how to laugh at life and for that I am extremely grateful. Every time that our family was heading for a crisis or disaster he had the happy knack of turning up and diffusing the situation, always with the right words, no matter the occasion. Yes, I suppose that I loved him but then you can't choose your family can you? I have elected to start with the Big Bong Theory, the mechanism that he employed to create his fortune, he always considered it purely a financial vehicle to force the world to listen to reason, it is as good a place to start on this reckless adventure, one that can best be described as a "Moebius Trip."

The Big Bong Theory States;

Reverse Cycle Financing Expanded.

In the same way that a company pays to have it's name associated with a Product or an Idea, so too should it be made to pay to have nothing what so ever to do with the same Product or Idea!

Chapter One.

The Mid North Coast of Australia in the latter part of the 1990's,
a balmy afternoon, alone with the road again.

A Hitch-hiker is strolling along the road as the sun is setting, whistling a tune as he goes. Cars and Trucks zoom past, the Hitcher is oblivious to the fact that no one is stopping to give him a lift. He is dressed in a pair of faded and patched trousers, Snakeskin cowboy boots, a Tee shirt of obscure origin and on his head, a battered and stained Green Bay Packers Cap. He whistles the same catchy tune over and over in time to the sound of his footsteps as he crunches along the gravelly shoulder of the road. His sun-glasses don't disguise the cautious gaze of a man who is accustomed to being acutely aware of his surroundings. He stoops occasionally to examine the debris that is scattered along the side of the highway, each piece is examined as if for future use and then either stowed in his Backpack or discarded. A Vintage car slows down and stops beside him.
"Where are you heading?" asks the leather helmeted and goggled car enthusiast as the Hitch-hiker draws level with his machine?
"Hop in, just toss your gear on the back seat."
"My name is John and this old girl is Mathilda, she's a 1921 Rolls Royce Silver Ghost with a Packard touring body, she's probably the only one of her kind in the world. She has done over half a million miles and for all I know has got another million left in her, she'll out last me that's for sure."
"It's a cool sled Man." replies the Hitcher with a trace of twang in his voice.
"Is that an accent I hear? Sounds American."
"Nah, Aussie, just spent a couple of years over there is all."
"So what's your name mate?"
"Why do they call you that?"
"It's a long story."
They lapse into silence, the wind roaring through where the windows would be in a modern car.
"How far north are you going?"
"I'm looking for a place to start a business venture I have in mind, I'll know it when I see it."
"What kind of business venture?"
"Kind of a long story."
"Do you know any short stories?" comments John with a smile.
"A couple." says Glitter, warming to the kindness that emanates from the driver of this exotic vehicle.
"What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a Poet."
"Does that pay? I once heard that the only difference between Poetry and Poverty was the letter V."
"Ha, too true John, especially if the letter Vee stands for Vanity."
"Well said, so what did you do in America?"
"Primarily, I went there to research a novel, mind you, I left Australia under somewhat of a financial cloud, I ended up in Dallas, Texas. I found myself broke and homeless, in order to survive I hustled my way in and out of some outrageous situations. As to exactly what they were, well, I'll send you a copy of the book when I finish it, hah, I got half way into it and got thunderbolted by the best idea I ever had, but back to what I was saying, my time in the States enabled me to expand my network of contacts and gain direct experience on how people think, work and live, it was a most educational experience, I assure you. So what do you do that affords you such a magnificent machine as Mathilda?"
"I sell Seals."
Glitter claps his hands together a couple of times and says, "You don't mean ARF-ARF seals to Aquariums, Zoos and stuff?"
"No," says John with a smile, "Hydraulic seals for machinery and heavy equipment."
"Sounds Cool, but please, tell me more about the car."
"As you may or may not know, a car can only be considered vintage if it was made between the end of World War One and the end of the Roaring Twenties. In those days Rolls Royce only sold the chassis, you had to buy the coach work separately. She was brought to Australia by the Biscuit king Colonel Arnott and originally had a body by Maythorn, later on they fitted a camper body on to her so they could go on vacation. She was sold and languished in that undignified condition in Bowral until some time in the Sixties. She was sold again and became part of the Palfreyman collection, it was at this time she was fitted with the Packard body. She is a true Anglo American work of art, I bought her in 1971 and she has been my love ever since."
"I suppose it's hard to get spare parts for her?"
"You're not wrong there, they have to be hand made, fortunately she was built in a time when craftsmen were proud. So the saying is, She doesn't break down, only fails to proceed! She'll still do 80 mph with the wind behind her, watch this and hang on."
John jams the pedal to the metal and a maniacal grin spreads across his face as Mathilda puts the bit between her teeth, he flips the rear muffler cut out switch. He has to shout over the awe inspiring sound of an 8 1/4 litre straight Six in full song.
"When I first got her we couldn't understand why she would only go 50 mph, then we realised that who ever had bolted on the Packard body hadn't left enough room under the accelerator pedal. This meant she was only running on 3/4 throttle when your foot was flat, a bit of corrective surgery and now the only problem is stopping her, she's only got drum brakes on the back so I hope we don't have to stop in a hurry!"
"Who cares Man, anything you hit is gunna stay hit!"
As they rumble through the night John slowly brings the car back to a speed where conversation can be coherently shouted. "Tell me about this business venture of yours."
"As I already mentioned, I was broke and homeless in the USA, I was also unemployed, trouble is so are about 2 million Septics. "Excuse me for interrupting but what exactly is a Septic?"
"It's rhyming slang, Septic is short for Septic Tank which rhymes with Yank, Septic Tank-Yank. I like to use it because by and large they are both full of shit! Of course I was living in Texas and they still remember the war of Northern Aggression and they don't take kindly to being called Yanks."
"Hmmm, that's worth knowing."
"Any how, I've mostly made my living as a salesman but when I was in the States I did anything I could to keep surviving."
"Was it tough?"
"Yeah, but to tell you the truth, some of the people I met over there are amongst the nicest I've ever met. It is a shame that most people base their opinion of Americans on what they see on TV, because we only ever get to see the worst side of their culture. After I got the hang of the place I ended up as a designer for a rapidly expanding Pool company, it was a gas. I'd go into peoples' homes and do a layout of their backyards potential, I used to look on it as being an artist, I'd do a design and then build it, my art work is spread all over North Texas. I was set up for life, I had the coolest sled, it was the last of the Dinosaurs, a hard loaded 1979 Primrose Yellow 454 cubic inch V8 Cadillac Sedan de Ville, Ha!, I used to call it the Banana Boat, it was the perfect drunk tank. Man, you ain't lived till you get behind the wheel of a big old Caddy, get you a pretty little Texas girl to sit beside you, make sure you got a 6 pack and about twenty joints. Then hit the express ways, it's like being Jimmy Buffett in a Bruce Springsteen tune. I had it all, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in real life, we shared a house with every possible modern convenience, I had achieved every goal I'd ever set for myself, yet something was missing. At the risk of sounding like I've gone insane, the best description I can offer you is that one night I suddenly interfaced the dormant 90% of my brain and logically arrived at a perfectly workable solution to World Peace and Nuclear Disarmament!
"You what?"
"I've logically worked out a cohesive plan to achieve world peace and a way to end the nuclear threat."
Upon hearing this John brings the car to a halt and turns to Glitter,
"You can't be serious."
"I am completely serious and committed to both those goals, my main problem has been one of finding a method of getting the idea across, to that end I have embarked on a strategic campaign to get the attention of the entire population of this planet. Let me leave you with an outline of the path I intend to follow to achieve these goals, read it in your spare time and then either give it to anyone else you think may be interested, or throw it away."
Glitter then retrieves his Backpack from the rear seat and then adds, "Thanks for the lift John, I'd prefer to walk for a while, it's such a beautiful night."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I hope we see each other again, I enjoyed both your company and the ride in this remarkable machine."
With that said and hands shook, Glitter starts to walk and whistle the same tune. John and Mathilda continue their journey, "What an most unusual person." comments John to Mathilda, naturally there is no reply.

The Big Bong Theory States;

It is a shame that Johnny Appleseed wasn't known as Johnny Marijuanaseed.
Reflect upon the ramifications of this concept.

Chapter Two.

The same night, further up the coast,
the lights of a small town off in the distance.

As Glitter tunefully makes his way north he suddenly stops, his nostrils flare as he sniffs the air, his posture takes on the appearance of a hunter on the spore of a wild animal. He hears the faint sound of merriment coming from the bush to his left. He moves silently through the underbrush and pauses behind a tree to investigate the scene before him. His eyes bear out the evidence of his nose, several young people are sitting around a camp-fire drinking beers, the unmistakable aroma of marijuana wafts in his direction. A smile crosses Glitters face as he walks toward them, the revelers are unaware of his presence until he's in their midst.
Mass confusion follows, "We're busted, he's a cop!" a short scuffle ensues as two of the guys jump onto Glitter in order to give the others time to escape, Glitter follows a path of passive acceptance, ultimately ending face down in the dirt.
"He doesn't look like a cop, more like a bum." says the first.
"He could be an under cover Narc." says the other local hero.
"Chill out guys, I come in Peace."
"How can we tell you ain’t a cop?"
"If you let me up I can prove that I came here to share in your session."
"You got buds?" Local Hero asked greedily?
"Of course, the rankiest, skankiest buds available, I wouldn't have thought to join you if I didn't herb of my own to spare and share."
They let him go, he stands and starts to brush the dirt from his clothes, surprisingly there is a noticeable difference in the state of his attire, for whilst his clothes are worn and travel stained, they were obviously clean before the fracas! The others return and take up their previous positions around the fire, there is a silence as the locals look at Glitter expectantly.
One of the girls breaks the silence when she asks, "Why are you wearing sun-glasses at night, are you trying to look cool or something?"
"These are prescription night driving glasses and the only pair of glasses have left, and as far as trying to look Cool, Cool is a state of mind not a style of appearance. But listen, if Y'all don't want any company I'd just as soon be on my way and leave Y'all to enjoy your little get together."
"How come you talk funny, you a foreigner? asks local girl #1.
"What is your name?" asks local hero #2.
"They call me Glitter, I'm an Australian, although I've lived all over the world in my short lucky life."
"Where have you been ?" asks local hero #1.
"Around and about, it isn't the number of places you've been that's important but rather the experiences you've had and what you've learnt from them."
"You sound like some kind of Preacher man or Professor."
"I am neither, I'm looking for a place to start a business venture that I have been planning for a while and I assure you I am non religious in the extreme."
"So what is this business venture you want to start?"
"I am a poet and an artist and I intend to make a movie about the erection of the worlds largest working Peace Pipe. The working title of this project is the Big Bong Theory, the statue of the Bong will be over as tall as 20 story building and will be full of photographs of Bongs sent by like minded and peaceful people from all over the world. With the money I make from this project I intend to buy all the Nuclear missiles in the world, fill them with toxic waste and terminally ill people and then fire them down the gravity well and into the Sun. Before Y'all start to think I'm a lunatic or worse take a look at this."
Glitter then passes out copies of his Propaganda Pamphlet and in doing so learns their names. "I'll just sit here and enjoy the firelight as Y'all wrap your minds around the concept."
Glitter then rolls up the leg of his jeans and selects a joint from the inside of his boot, the inner edge of his beat up old Snakeskin boots has a cartridge belt like effect sown into it, each boot holds about twenty joints.
"Hey check out the boots, they're too cool, where you get them?" asks Belinda.
Glitter takes a couple of deep tokes from the joint and then passes it around his new friends, as he exhales he rasps, "Dallastexas."
"Can you buy 'em like that?" asks Free Ball the Clown.
"Nah, I sewed it my self, see how this flap makes it look like a lining or padding? It fools all but the most diligent searcher."
The party mood is soon re-established as the locals all start to get the full scope of Glitters' conspiracy, when they finish, they look at Glitter in a new light.
Kelly challenges Glitter, "You say in here that you are a poet, tell us one of your poems."
"Okay, this is called "Poem Break" and it's about loneliness, Ahem."

Rhyming words by candle light, who is calling me tonight?
Can I sit here all alone? Waiting patiently by the phone?
Who will call, if at all? Another hour stare at wall.
Sit and hear the traffic flow, living life super slow,
taking time to take all in, plastic liner in the bin,
Cockroach family live in clock,
they must move to another rock.
Lift the rock Zen the bottom side,
a different world in a different size,
Are we big or are we small? Another hour stare at wall.
Turgid sounds unto my ear, Raison d'etre still unclear,
Wattle flower, wild beans, other world, other means.
Turned off lights now unlit hall, Another hour stare at wall.
The far off field with grass so green,
15 degree angle Tee pole lean,
Oak tree in chimney, cross the street,
sand stone story, incomplete.
Corner shop to shopping Mall, Another hour stare at wall.
Sorry now at rash decisions.
Slow results with no rescissions.
Power station turned off now,
Which? What? Why? When? How?
Candle now a dying glow. Wall, of course the same.
If Love is a moth, then I'm a red hot flame.

"Wow" says Kelly, that's beautiful. I have never heard a real poet before, it's so descriptive, where did you write that?
"Thank you, if you ever go to Drummoyne in Sydney, there is a house there that was once famous, it was called the Party House. Oh the tales of bacchanalia I could tell of those days of wine and ganja, I wrote that on a cold winters night and it is the view from the balcony seen through the eyes of a lovelorn poet.
"Is all this for real?" inquires Julie.
"It is a viable future, I now only need the right place to build it."
"Why not here?" asks Big Al.
"Where am I?
"The right place!" they chorus.

The Big Bong Theory States:

Surely it makes far more sense for the cigarette manufacturing companies to spend all of the compensation money that the courts will soon force them to pay out on "Lung Replacement" techniques? I mean, if cheap lungs were available, we could all keep on smoking and they could keep on making their earned profits.. I'm not talking about buying lungs from third world countries for transplant here, I'm talking growing them artificially, in vats or such. Sigh, if only Walt had of had this thought and poured the Disney millions down this path, maybe he wouldn't be a Corpsicle now..

Chapter Three.

Around the fireside, later the same night,
as the party really starts to kick ass!

As the night wears on more and more people turn up, as if the word has leaked out that an event of world shaking proportions was occurring, it had and it was! Glitter had finally found an audience that was prepared to put their own egos to one side and let him describe the full scope of the conspiracy. Unbeknowenced to Glitter, but becoming more and more apparent as the night went on, most, if not all of the people that Glitter had been Bonging for opinions over the preceding years had been covertly following him, waiting for him to decide on the right place to start his Peace Movement. Glitter thinks to himself, well at least this explains the paranoid sensation I've been feeling over the last couple of months. Friends of his and friends of theirs, from all over the world start to arrive. From business men to bikies to bums, a weird melange of humans have come to hear Glitter. Seated near the fire, leaning against his backpack which is propped against a near by tree, Glitter begins to speak in a strong clear voice.
"I can see from the faces around me that some of you have traveled a long way to get here, if you have flown here, then you know how big the Earth is and how small you are. There is no monument or gross physical scar that we humans can leave on the surface of this planet of ours that time will not erode, we exist because we can and we are just a fleeting phase of the big picture. No human being can understand the whole based on one single piece of a very complex puzzle, many have tried and managed to convince others that they know the Answer. If any of you think I want to start a religion or a cult then you are mistaken, my dream is to build the first statue dedicated to world peace. The method or apparatus that I have chosen is both simple and complex, it requires the participation of you and everyone you know. The way will be hard at first because this statement can be and will be misconstrued by many people. On my way up here I collected the bottles you see before you, I intend holding them to ransom. With the money collected from this extortion we will commence the construction of the Bong. Now under the laws of this country what I propose is illegal, but in the global picture I believe that there needs to be a standard for neutrality that is apolitical. This standard of peace and neutrality will be a Big Bong Tee shirt. We will make these from Hemp fiber grown specially for the Peace Pipe Project, like minded people from all over the world will be able to purchase a Big Bong Peace Package containing a Tee shirt, a copy of the novel, a copy of the movie, a bumper sticker, in short as many associated products as possible. Then we will hold a party and conduct the largest community stoning since the days of the Roman Empire! The crowd responds with loud cheering, Glitter stands and scratches a ring in the dirt with his boots.
"Toss all your money and Smoko inside this circle and we will make a start."
Then raising his voice to a shout, Glitter yells,
A resounding "YES" thunders across the clearing.

MULL = Australian slang term for shared resources, used almost exclusively to refer to a Marijuana Smoking Session. Each participant brings what ever they can to the session, money, implements, tunes or herb. The basic idea that a mull shared goes further and is better than smoking on your own. A further note on Mull, it is either "Spun" by adding tobacco (Spin.) or straight.

The Big Bong Theory States;

I hope this is being printed on recycled paper,
other wise I will alienate the Greenies.....
Well, maybe not the true Green Greenies,
just the tree huggers.

Index / Chapter 1 to 3
Chapter 4 to 8 / Chapter 9 to 11
Chapter 12 to 16 / Chapter 17 to 19