Another Perspective

Funk 'Dat

Rise up and smite those who would oppress your Booty.

BY JUDAH MCAULEY

Good Evening. Do not Attempt to Adjust your Paper. There is nothing wrong. We will return you paper to you as soon as you are Funky. We now turn you to radio station W-E-F-U-N-K, a public service channel from the Mothership. Excuse me while I put on my sunglasses. That's the law around here, you got to wear your sun-glasses and be cool. Now, that's better.

OK, let's make it funky now and hand it over to the DJ:

"Funk upon a time, In the daze of the Funkapus, the earth was on the One. Funk flowed freely and freedom was free from the need to be free. Even the Cro-Nasal Sapiens and the Thumpasorus Peoples lived side by side in P(eace). But soon there arose bumpnoxious empires lead by unfunky dictators. These priests, pimps and politicians would spank whole nations of unsuspecting people-constipating their notions and pimping their instincts until they were fat, horny and strung-out. The descendants of Cro-Nasal Sapiens fell in line, for their credo was "Get over by any means necessary." They slicked their hair and lost all sense of the Groove. The descendants of the Tumpasorus Peoples knew Funk was its own reward. They tried to remain true pure, uncut Funk. But it because impossible in a world woo'd by power and greed. SO they locked away the secret of Clone Funk with kings and pharaohs deep in the Egyptian pyramids, and fled to outer space to party on the Mothership and await the time they could safely return to refunkatize the planet.

-P. Funk

Glory B to the One's (on the one) who know that the Funk is about. The One: The first beat; wholeness, metafoolish perfection, the Cosmic Splank of Dr. Funkenstein. Too long have those Cro-Nasal Sapiens spanked the unwary, depriving them of the life-giving, booty shaking Aquaboogie.

Administration, committees, student government. It's all temptation without representation for the purposes of pimpation. Rise up and say, "Funk It!"

Ya'll just get on the One. One Nation, under the Groove, on the Downstroke. How long they been dancin' with the Devil to pay the bills? How long they been pimpin' for Sir Nose D'VoidofFunk who woo'd the primal funk out of the masses.

Now there may be those pretend they got the Funk. But just remember the Pinocchio Theory: If you fake the Funk, your nose gotta' grow. Nah. They just part of the Placebo Syndrome. It's Jivation through logic. Spreading fake Funk in place of P., driving humans into a perpetual do-loop or deep snooze. But you can wake Up!

Now you may be thinking that I'm about to reveal the SUPADOOPAGROOVALISTICFUNKSATIONAL 12 STEP PROGRAM TO THE MOTHERSHIP! Bu the answer is all there in one step. When someone asks you, "What you going to do now," just remember the Godfather: "I don't know. But whatever it is, I've got to make if Funky."

There are those who say that Oregon is D'Void of the Funk. But I say: Funk Dat. Now, we all know about the Big Bang Theory. Funk set the universe in motion; ignition by Funk. It ain't nothin' but a party in a Black Hole. Now, form the moment on (the ultimate One Beat) the Funk has been spreading across the Universe, energizing those hardcore funkateers who are ready to receive the Funkentelechy. Leave the door open and in will walk the Children of Production. I tell you that Clone Funk, that joyful process by which Funkenstein creates in his own image afronauts capable of funkatizing galaxies, is at work here in Melanin Challenged Oregon. You just got ta' get up off your butts and start shakin'. We got a seismic Motor Booty Affair goin' here, children. Off the Richter Scale baby.

The Head bone is connected to the neck bone. And the neck bone is connected to the Back Bone. And the back bone is connected the Funk Bone. That's the P-Funk funk bone my little funkateers and ya' gots one even if it's out of shape. Just remember, you got to shake it when you P.

This is your heritage, your Cosmic Right. Open your Inter-Galactic, Super-Sonic, Disco Inducin', Soul Producin', Fun-K Wavelength detectors. And I guarantee that Star Child (AKA, The Long Haired Sucker, Sir Lollipop Man) will visit unto you the Miracle of (P-) Funk.

But all is not without it's danger. Beware the Ego Munchie's, that all night crazoid craving for pure egotronic unsatisfunktion. For in the heart of our darkness lies an UN-funky place that denies the One, worships Sir Nose D'VoidofFunk (The Nose), and sets out to Spank the unsuspecting.

In this earthly incarnation it is known as Suite 4. It is a Zone of Zero Funkativity. An Electric Spank. A high-tech pimping of human instincts by the power brokers/jokers-that-be. The Nose Zone steals the Soul. But only if the Pilgrim is unPrePared. For though I walk through the Valley of Darkness, none shall make me unFunky. You see, all you need is a Bop Gun.

A Bop Gun is Dr. Funkenstein's greatest invention-one blast capable of splanking the funkless. And all of the descendants of the Thumasorus Peoples have the ability to summon a Bop Gun in times of need. You just go to get Up for the Downstroke. Today's society is definitely on the verge of the Downstroke; standing on the verge of the Beat; a march to the rear towards the Final Splank. Donot let Rumpofsteelskin Woo you from the One.

We can get with the Aquaboogie. We can bring about the Motor Booty Affair, that Bootyful funktion in downtown Atlantis where you can swim past reality behind a clock's back without getting wet. We got the people. We got the Funk. You just got ta' believe in the Power of One.

In the coming days you will hear un-funkful phrases designed to seduce, reduce, and render impotent the forces of Dr. Funkenstein. They will bear names like Bill and Ben, President, Provost, Vice this-and-that Committee X. They seek to Somnolentdepunkunfunkificate those who would be Children of Production! They want to Spank the masses with words like Incidental Fee and Conduct Code. DO NOT GIVE IN TO THE PLACEBO SYNDROME! All you have to lose is your Cosmic Slop.

Just take it from Mr. Wiggles the Worm (that Subaquatic, ultrasonic, semi-bionic Clone of Dr. Funkenstein): It's the Law of Supergroovealisticprosifunkstication. Give the people what they want when they want and they wants it all the time. Get ready to fly on the Mothership every night for we never know when to be ready for the Party. Get down with the Connection. There's a Groove in the Hole and it's down with the Funk. Put on your sunglasses so you can see what you're doin'. Now get a little lower. That's it. Ya's gotta smooth into the groove. Doin' it in their ear, so to speak. Doin' it in 3-D.

Can you Feel the Funk? I think you can. Just say "Funk It!" and rise above the spankic situation. It's time to get a Groove goin', and get that Cosmic Connection established.

So when you see a descendant of the Cro-Nasal Sapiens, those minions of Sir Nose D'VoidofFunk, when you venture into the Zone of Zero Funkativity, carry your Bop Gun with you and you shall overcome all. You carry Funkentelechy with you. With your perseverance, we shall create a landing area for the Mothership. The secrets of the Pyramids will be revealed. The Black Hole will descend and take us into her bosom once again. The Prime Funk, the P-Funk, the One. And when you confront the forces of the Placebo Syndrome remember one thing:

"FREE YOUR MIND AND YOUR ASS WILL FOLLOW!"

Judah is a white boy who got funk and is now working for Big Dave and the Oregon Commentator