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making love was strange in my bed

“Roomful of Mirrors,” Jimi Hendrix

 

Keith Haring
Untitled
Ink on Vellum
1981

 

By all reports Jimi Hendrix devoured the works of the1952 Hugo Award winning sci-fi-ist Phillip Jose Farmer.  Farmer’s noted for being, among other things, an explorer of human/alien sexuality.  Keith Haring’s UFO drawing Untitled directly addresses the sexual abuse and molestation often associated with abduction.  It depicts in the top background two classically shaped saucers hovering over a pile of conquered, inert bodies and a third saucer in the lower right background.  One of the top ships is sending down its tractor beam, zapping one of two Haring figures as they climb out of some sort of escape hatch which is attached to a generalized edifice that to the right contains a set of stairs down which runs another figure burdened with holding in his right hand his terribly oversized vibrating erection while pointing with his left hand at a fellow figure who is bound and hung from somewhere above the picture’s frame and whose lower torso is nearly entirely disintegrated.  The lower right saucer is also head-zapping one of the bodies in the pile.  This drawing comes from that particular New York gay New-Wave early 80s time whose circle included fellow alien Kenny Scharf—who with his UFO Show piece “Chiki” even sees a flying saucer in his customized vacuum cleaner—and self-proclaimed alien, rock star Klaus Nomi.  Haring’s sex-apocalyptic vision here can proleptically be read as an AIDS nightmare.  The alien abduction nightmare narrative consistently contains anal probing as well as sperm and egg extractions for the purpose of developing a human/alien hybrid.  Jimi’s alien arrives looking for one of our barnyard animals—perhaps with which to breed.  The persistent way of figuring the extra-terrestrial Other—when not as African—is as insect.

Invaders From Mars (1951) poster

One hundred years ago H.G. Wells depicted one of the first extra-terrestrial dystopias to feature the insect-as-alien with his novel’s great colony of humanoid ants inhabiting the lunar surface and underground in The First Men in the Moon (1901).  Leon Stover, editor of the new annotated edition of the “scientific romance,” argues Wells’ anxiety toward the international scientific management movement, specifically the Saint-Simonian school of socialism, is made manifest in this loony lunar nightmare.  What may be even more frightening of course is the attendant proposition of a genuine (unlike his England’s only titular Queen Mother) and genetically entrenched matriarchy—crucial to the Mothership connection.  Insects, Communism, Matriarchy—Oh My!    Invaders from Mars presents a similar scenario and fear as the Queen head-in-the-jar Martian Leader “Intelligence” rules over her zombie drones.  Each actor curiously mispronounces the name “mutant” that they assign the drones, insisting on calling them “mute-ants.”   The anxiety operating in these alien-insect bad dreams is the (particularly American) free market-capital fear that democracy’s core belief in individualism in under attack by communism’s ant colony/bee hive mentality. In his analysis of a patient’s alien spider dream, my authority on UFO and alien anxiety writes of the commonly held “hypothesis that Ufos are a species of insect coming from another planet and possessing a shell or carapace that shines like metal.” Jung remarks that he was “struck” how “the peculiar behaviour of the UFOs was reminiscent of certain insects.”  He continues in a footnote: “Sievers, Flying Saucers uber Sudafrika, mentions Gerald Heard’s hypothesis that they are a species of bees from Mars (Is Another World Watching? The Riddle of the Flying Saucers).  Harold T. Wilkins, in Flying Saucers on the Attack, mentions a report of a `rain of threads,’ supposed to come from unknown spiders.”   Jung provides the key to this nervous insect projection: “Spiders, like all animals that are not warm-blooded or have no cerebrospinal nervous system, function in dreams as symbols of a profoundly alien psychic world.”20 The Angry Red Planet (1959) connects as well with this Mothership fear by presenting us with a curiously ugly Martian bat-lobster-spider hybrid.  The film also assigns comeuppance to a wimpy, peace-loving and alien-loving professor (Les Tremayne) donned in beatnik-commie goatee.

Artist and experiencer John Velez, when pushed by Nova On-Line to come out with his theory regarding these abductions, finally goes on record with the following alien/human hybrid hypothesis:

VELEZ: All right, this is pure speculation on my part. Because I don't think anybody knows for sure. With the exception of the aliens and maybe Uncle Sam—and they're not talking. What I think is going on is, I believe these creatures have always been here. I believe their role is basically a caretaker role. I believe that their race is incapable of reproducing itself. And that these beings have lived in a symbiotic relationship with mankind throughout the ages. They need us in order to reproduce themselves. I believe that that's what the hybrids are. I believe the hybrids are just simply more of them. I honestly can't say, with any authority, that they're from another world—although, they may be originally—or what their ultimate purposes are here. I mean all of this could very well be a preamble to invasion, for all I know. 21

I argued earlier that the saucer shape conjures pleasurable yonic and female breast images, and broke down the logic of sexual ravishment in the lyrics to “You Are My Starship” in order to begin to suggest the sexualized aspect of abduction.  While Jung is careful to admonish that “sex is not the sole instigator of these [UFO] metaphors,” he does allow “there is a close association between sexual instinct and the striving for wholeness. With the exception of religious longings, nothing challenges modern man more consciously and personally than sex.”  He also writes about how the UFO believers unconsciousness “strives to fill the illimititable emptiness of space” with these “numinous images” intended to sate the “hunger of the soul.” 22 The anticipation  of the apocalypse by History’s charioteer-wannabees is necessarily an eroticized one—and rarely without musical accompaniment.  

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