Let me begin by thanking my colleagues for their long and loyal support of my research. However, I must now put forward what will appear a radical and eccentric departure from scientific orthodoxy. I have not done this lightly; but scientific conscience compels me to honor our spineless ancestors for their profound influence on our physiology and our mentality.

It is an open secret that, according to the fossil record, the psychic structure of we human beings can be traced back to the lowly trilobites; and perhaps something of our moral outlook as well. As hard as it is to accept when viewed from this perspective, we are in fact nothing more than self-conscious Cambrian invertebrates.

A disinterested reading of the fossil and geological records proves that the Earth is composed entirely of organic matter: a collation of hairs, chitin and hardened glandular secretions (currently misclassified as mica). It is not widely known that this matter is identical to substances found throughout the solar system, as far as the outer reaches of the Kuyper Belt, home of the errant Pluto; here orbit the remains of innumerable similarly constituted planets, each a ball of hardened organic secretions. Life has many times teemed forth into newly formed worlds that flourished, corrupted, dessicated and finally disintegrated, their remains floating freely–like a vast psoriatic dust–until coalescing with solar mists of hydrogen, oxygen and methane to form planets such as ours.

For millions of years the Earth was nothing more than an oil slick, gradually and finally massing into an asymmetrical shape somewhat resembling a clenched fist. Gnawed at by

viral life, it gradually assumed the spheroid-ovoid shape we recognize today. It must have closely resembled the infamous Pugnos, the so-called “fist asteroid:”

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SLIDE 2: PUGNOS, THE FIST ASTEROID (Mt. Palomar Observatory 1958)

Before the arrival of the viruses (shrewder beings than supposed), mobile life had not yet come about, but was straining to do so. If not for powerful winds, caused by the Earth’s still- precarious rotation, all its strain would have amounted to nothing. But the winds succeeded in assembling the necessary elements: a few specks of carbon, some longish hairs of indeterminate origin, and a knot of slime; we owe a great and unacknowledged debt to the early slime.

I ask you to imagine this primeval nexus: on a plain of gravel vacant as a perspective study, a knot of hairs, mucilage and carbon twitching gravely.




What was the first replicative act of this ur-life? Irritation, the first itch felt by the first life. Slime’s first desire. The tickling yet satiating hair, lashing about in evolutionary optimism, scratching until mitosis occurred: a time-point of biological joy.

If not for the hairs, nothing would have come of it.

In a few centuries, the landscape was to be altered entirely. Geology reveals cataclysmic changes in our planet. Meteors crash into its surface, leaving nose-shaped imprints of canyon-like dimensions:



Kept in tow by a powerful gravitational pull, they rumble over the Earth, coring out valleys. New and more cunning viral forms flourish on the gravel surface, generated by the hair-life. These early viruses absorb surrounding radioactivity and give off a dull, reddish glow as they cannibalize each other, each devouring many times its own weight in fellow viruses. Only the Earth recalls these Rabelaisian specks.

Earth was the first Mars.

Eventually, the viruses were attacked, subsumed or pillaged by the hair-forms; their troubled offspring producing a range of new life structures heretofore unparalleled in complexity. Lacking any skeletal structure or nervous system, these “eo”-mammals manifested a bewildering variety of forms; some of them ovoid, others finger- or ear-like, others merely an asymmetrical bulge. Over time, these forms were templates for mammalian development; we see the results all around us in the forms of our own organs (thumb, nostril, pancreas, etc.) Note the “Thumb Mammal”:




Eo-mammal locomotion was extremely limited, restricted to spastic impulses and writhing. The aquatic forms, smaller and buoyant, were widely dispersed, while the land-based forms soon were parched to extinction in increasingly desert-like conditions.1 Dolphins, incidentally, are the direct descendants of the aquatic hair- and sponge-forms, and have many stories to tell.2

A senseless, floating being may seem to us a living death. But eo-mammals responded quite subtly to changes in gravitation. These seaborne creatures migrated along electromagnetic axes. In fact, magnetic signals constituted these creatures’ entire mental lives, displaying an intricacy comparable to thought. And thought, without the distractions of the mammal senses, must have consisted of pure reflection.

Metaphysics thus began in the sea. These floating, twitching beings of pure contemplation were the first philosophers.

Modern logic has long rejected the notion of correspondence as proof; not so the scholars of the Renaissance, who believed, for example, that the phallus-shaped asparagus possessed aphrodisiac properties. (In fact, asparagus promotes inception by stimulating the flagellae of human sperm).

Because of this prejudice, the shared relations of mica, chitinous invertebrates and organic material (fingernails and such) have been neglected by research science simply because the similarities seemed merely fortuitous. In fact, the first crustaceans originated in vast mica beds. Viruses, growing among the beds, had gradually incorporated mica traces in the manner of a death mask, and gave rise to the invertebrates over a period of eons.

Slow-witted crustaceans, the last to feed or to mate, had already split off into a separate species, the trilobites. These noble creatures, feeding on the slime-generated algae that formed in patches on gravel, housed themselves near the troubled oceans.

The regal immobility of the trilobites was so great that they accumulated in mounds piled hundreds deep. Those dying on the bottom would decay into a nutritious mud upon which the upper trilobites fed; the exoskeleta of the dead forming habitations for the living. Trilobites by the millions occupied these vast multiple dwellings for centuries. Only an intermittent and gradual twitching of legs gave any indication of life in this vast necropolis of invertebrate real estate.

1 A few desiccated fossil remains have been brought back to a more-or-less original state by an infusion of water, glycol and methadrine.

2 This explains the dolphins’ well-known fondness for human hair. They have been observed to spend hours nudging stray hairs around their tanks, displaying the greatest affection and reverence for them.


The trilobite mentality, inasmuch as it can be reconstructed, offers a singular opportunity to study mental life in the absence of thought. But how is it possible to enter the mind of a dim- witted, long-extinct arthropod?

Just as there are those who serve as vehicles for the thoughts and feelings of the human dead, certain individuals seem to be subject to habitation by lower life forms. Limited as these creatures were, the simple act of moving a leg would occupy them for hours. An arthropod- medium–clearly in the grip of an impulse far less than human–will require the same amount of time.





New vistas of human psychology have opened thanks to this research. It seems, for example, that different personality types are distinguished not by environmental or even genetic distinctions but by lines of descent from specific species. Once these types have been sufficiently catalogued, we can replace the oral, anal and other Freudian types with more accurate characterizations, such as “fascist/trilobitic,” “slime-mind,” “socialistic/crustacean,” “introvert/eo-mammal,” “impulsive hair-form,” and so on.

One touching and surprising result of medium-work is a new understanding of the origins of music. Scientists have found musical abilities among birds, dolphins, dogs, and even mice. Now, thanks to our arthropod channelers we can assert that the lower animals make music with the same intentionality as any porpoise. Crickets chirp, click beetles click, flies buzz, spiders crunch, cicadas whirr, death’s-head moths chomp in a vast concert of exoskeletal expressiveness.

Here is the mating song of a primitive lobster:

Ak ak ak – Ak ak ak – Ak ak!!! Ak!

Ooooh, ookoo – Ooooh, ookoo! Ooooh, ookoo – Ooooh, ookoo! Ooooh, ookoo – Ooooh, ookoo!

Koooh, kookoo – Koooh, ookoo!

Lovely, in its own way.
And here is a song to the moon, performed on the same day of each lunar cycle: (In the transcription, an x indicates a claw-click, reproduced by finger-snapping.)

X Ak ak ak – X Ak ak ak – XX Ak ak!!! XXX Ak!

X Ooooh, ookoo – Ooooh, ookoo!
X Ooooh, ookoo – Ooooh, ookoo!
XXXX Ooooh, ookoo – Ooooh, ookoo!
You may have noticed a certain similarity between these songs. This is because the vocal apparatus of crustaceans was limited to the production of exactly one consonant: the “K” sound. The beauty lies in the vowels.


The crustaceans, which had evolved into a fierce and carnivorous fraternal organization, were the natural predators of the aquatic mammalia. Indeed, the ferocity and social acumen of the crustaceans combined with the mental apparatus of the eo-mammals (terror-stricken in their final stage) only to be encoded in the genetic makeup of future and higher mammalian life.



The polarities of cooperative sadism and individualistic paranoia, so frequently seen in human social organization, owe their origin to this evolutionary encounter.

It was but a few steps to the rise of the human tribe. Archeologists have found traces of hair- and trilobite worship among all the mound peoples of the archaic world. Note, for example, that the wonderful glyph-covered stelae of the Aztecs possess a distinctive trilobite shape. And the ample fertility deities of ancient Europe—the Venus of Willendorf and such— combine erotic imagery with early crustacean morphology. The first slide shows an armless Jurassic crab; the second, the Venus of Willendorf:




Fascination with hair, so prevalent in our culture, is an atavistic tribute to those ancient life forms. It takes a single glance at the cover of a fashion magazine–and an open mind—to intuit the mass of slime-hair and trilobite contour beneath the shapely blonde starlet.

The beauties of well-coifed human hair, the hypnotic eloquence of tribal leaders and chief executive officers, the maternal and paternal instincts, the feral séances of deconstructionists; all are throwbacks to our twitching and somber past, played out on a near-barren landscape.

Thus has our species evolved.