She always kind of did. Lynn

Lynn is here. At the front door of my parents home. 1977

Punk Rock Colleague and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

I was becoming one with my punkalullaby. I coined the word punkalullaby. It means that the whole time I was in the punk rock scene, from beginning to end, it was all about a song. One song to the next pulled me throughout the scene. Once that loud music got into my blood there was nothing like it. I was socially awkward, wild, and morally uncultivated. I was a perfect product for the Los Angeles punk rock scene because I was someone that the normal culture had completely abandoned. Yet, here I was, welcomed into an underground counterculture.

Excerpt from My Punkalullaby by Hudley Flipside

currently AT 65

A SONG SPANS OVER 6 GENERATIONS BEFORE AND UNBOUND…

JUST HOW IT GOES FOR ME NOW.

Like the star above me

I know

Because when the sky is bright

Everything’s all right

1967 We were 9.

“Brown Eyed Girl” is a song by Northern Irish singer and songwriter Van Morrison. Written by Morrison and recorded in March 1967 for Bang Records owner and producer Bert Berns, it was released as a single in June of the same year on the Bang label, peaking at No. 10 on the Billboard Hot 100. The song spent a total of sixteen weeks on the chart. It featured the Sweet Inspirations singing back-up vocals and is considered to be Van Morrison’s signature song.[3]

1975 We were 17.

“Daisy Jane” is a song written by Gerry Beckley of the group America included on the 1975 America album Hearts. Issued as that album’s second single — following up the #1 hit “Sister Golden Hair” — “Daisy Jane” reached #20 on the Billboard Hot 100, becoming the final Top 20 hit by the original three-member incarnation of America. On the Easy Listening chart, the track reached #4.[1] In Canada the chart peak of “Daisy Jane” was #16 on the Pop singles chart and #2 on the Adult Contemporary chart.

Our parents met at the Canoga drive-in theater in Southern California. Lynn and I were crying like babies usually do. We were both born in 1958. Her in August and I in May.

Lynn lived down the hill. We became best friends and often confronted each other as girls do. Boys, drugs and growing up were usually our issues. She was my nemesis so to say. She had brown eyes, lite brown skin and long dark hair. I was just the opposite with green eyes, white, pink skin and long white, blond hair.

From The Ouija board to underground scary films we were as wild as the wind together. Like the madly climbing scented eucalyptus and uncontrollable pepper trees that embraced us or sliding down green grass hills on cardboard or riding our bikes to school we were always doing something together. I went shopping today and two songs came up for reflection.

Both are songs that we loved. It was two generations of growing, playing, and learning about life. I was driving to Ralph’s supermarket and remembered Lynn because it was a day like this in August that I found out about her demise.

Her x-husband was there and was holding tightly the shopping cart. He was holding a cart full of Lynn and his babies. Three through artificial insemination and a girl to follow later the natural way. Funny how that works sometimes. I asked how Lynn was. Did he know how she was?

“Didn’t you know?”

“Know what?”

“She died from a drug overdose.”

The whole of Ralph’s supermarket went black, and I caught myself falling.

“Are you OK. He spoke?

“No, I did not know she passed.”

“I guess the kids and I weren’t enough for her?”

I walked away at that point because the kids were a big handful. I know the story about how it did not work out for them, but I did not know Lynn went back to taking drugs.

It was August 2008. She was so wild and had a challenging time growing up. She was an unusually beautiful woman and as her beauty faded it was hard on her.

She just lost off from turning 50.

Romance and babies are not an easy thing to manage for any woman. It really does suck sometimes. I can understand her need to break loose a little, but she went too far. She always kind of did.

Hey, where did we go?

Days when the rains came

Down in the hollow

Playin’ a new game

Laughin’ and a-runnin’,

hey, hey Skippin’ and a-jumpin’

In the misty morning fog with Our,

our hearts a-thumping and you

My brown-eyed girl

And you, my brown-eyed girl.

Naked Green Slime No One Deserves That Naked Green Slime

A special FLOPSIDE EDITORIAL

Marjorie Taylor Greene Rebuked for Displaying Nude Photos of Hunter Biden at Hearing.

Greene was born in Milledgeville, Georgia, on May 27, 1974, the daughter of Robert Taylor.

She graduated from South Forsyth High School in Cumming, Georgia in 1992, and the University of Georgia with a Bachelor of Business Administration in 1996.

Perry Greene (m. 1995; div. 2022).

In September 2020, Greene wrote on Twitter that “children should not wear masks”, calling recommendations by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and other public health officials “unhealthy for their psychological, emotional, and educational growth” and “emasculating” for boys.

She called restrictions imposed in the U.S. Capitol in response to the COVID-19 pandemic, including face mask requirements, “tyrannical control” by Democrats.

Promotion for New Book

Cappen Jan Jake

CAPPEN JAN JAKE, A CORNISH TALE

BY WILLIAM HOWARD WATSON

Republished by his Great Grand-daughter Holly Duval Cornell / Hudley Flipside.

The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing

Cappen Jan Jake A Cornish Tale….

Flipside Video 3 and 4 CATALOG read by Hudley 2023.

I don’t know if I will get to all 11 from my catalog but at least I got to two more. From the original catalog I did in the 1980s. I wanted fans to at least get an organized sense of what we had to offer. I find it delightfully youthful and fanatical as a 65-year-old woman to read these. We were all into the punk scene and loved it madly. I was about 25 when I made this up.

(I am not a professional DJ haha).

Flipside Fanzine, My Aim Is True

1980 Hudley

My obligation to Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. (1977 to 2002)

As a co-publisher, editor of Flipside Fanzine I hold to my heart a need to protect and preserve the memory of this Fanzine. Being its roughly 20 years of existence.

How it is presented to the world is important to me. At one time Flipside Fanzine supported a beginning and then growing underground, and international, punk rock scene.

Over the last few years, I have had bands, record labels, writers and major movie companies approach me for images for their work and/or production pertaining to Flipside Fanzine. I engage the many demands in a proper and organized manner.

There is not another Flipside person who has stepped forward to engage this pressure.

My intentions are good for Flipside Fanzine, and I will continue to protect it as best I can. I hold good integrity too. I can choose with whom I share or sell things from this Fanzine.

Be it the fanzine itself, videos, or records. I am under an umbrella of protection, and I can release things for such productions as I always mention those involved at the time if they are dead, or otherwise, or do not want to be bothered. Flipside was a fast moving fanzine with many who did willfully engage freely in its creative life time.

I love Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. It is ironic to me, but Flipside’s created products become more precious with time. Everything Flipside “produced and created” is becoming more in demand.

In its publishing history there have only been two owners of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine, its “living publishing time,” Al Flipside (Al Kowalewski) and me Hudley Flipside (Holly D Cornell).

I promise to do my best with all of Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine documented materials and all products over its full life. Yet now it is a defunct fanzine and we only see it as a history of what once was and so many of its creations still shine in many corners of the world.

My Aim Is True,

Hudley Flipside / Holly D Cornell

The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing

hudleyflipside@gmail.com

https://hudleyflipside.com

Weeping Tears of Animus!

Tonight, wee hours of morn… I have been spending time awake with my animus!

A cup of coffee my ambrosia

kneading kitty on my lap

Happy happy

Thinking of male figures in my life

Who I admire and love!

Tonight I,

Acknowledge the male within me

You have not lost me

I embrace you

And let you cry

honey let it out

Weeping weeping wet tears

My night with animus!

Heal the headache, tears

Heartache and trauma.

The earth and sky

Jupiter and moon .

A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus

In Greek religion, the staff was carried by the votaries of Dionysus. Euripides wrote that honey dripped from the thyrsos staves that the Bacchic maenads carried. The thyrsus was a sacred instrument at religious rituals and fêtes.

Light and shadow magic comes to visit at different times in life.

The wind was strong and pushed over my angel solar light. I just got home from shopping as I was looking up at Jupiter and the waxing moon.

I have been changing my routines a bit. I go shopping at dusk now and take my showers in the morning or in the middle of the day.

Taking morning walks is something different too.

When I saw the angel at an angle, I ran to fix it when I noticed the shadow playing on the wall behind it.

I said aloud, “A Ghost Mantis holding a Thyrsus.”

I will let the angel be.

I took a picture and played with the image on Adobe Photo Express.

A lack of human consciousness.

“The Double does not exist only as an Ahrimanic shadow in individual men. There are members in this Doppelgänger sub-hierarchy of far greater power who act as the anti-spirits of peoples, nations, and races. And finally, there is the World Doppelgänger, the Anti-Spirit of Humanity, which plays its historic role as a servant of Lucifer in opposing the rightful evolution of human consciousness.”

Pg. 291 The Spear of Destiny, Trevor Ravenscroft

Taken from The Terrible Death Bubble Gum Comic A Flopside COmic!

“I am the spirit that negates.

And rightly so, for all that comes to be

Deserves to perish wretchedly;

‘Twere better nothing would begin.

Thus everything that your terms, sin,

Destruction, evil represent—

That is my proper element.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust – Part One

Friday night was time to go out and celebrate cause my man was winning a Chess tournament online. Youngest son, my man and I made three.

We went to the local Pub and then bar to celebrate properly.

We played darts at the Pub and had some healthy “Humulus lupulus” while listening to real records. The hiss and scratches and well listened to 45s made the music more enjoyable to me. Soul and ska and other melodies moved through the Pub and lots of hugs were shared.

At the next-door bar, we had some cocktails and enjoyed the slow ambiance of a well-loved bar. Nice and easy with an anime film on the screen. A break from the usual sports in most bars.

As we were finishing up, I looked over to see a man with a beard. Brown and rather friendly looking. We smiled in what I thought was a happy nod of enjoyment. He came up to us as my youngest son got up to take care of business. Then the man walked over to my man and me.

“Not just Jews were killed in WWII by the Nazis.”

We responded with a knowing agreement. Then he went on.

“My great grandfather saved a whole lot of people. Christians mostly and not many Jews.”

Seems this guy was reflecting upon his grandfather and WWII.

“You liberals think it was only Jews. You who voted for Biden and Kamala Harris!”

We then got a little confused and I said,

“How do you know who we voted for?”

Then he addressed me directly,

“Who did you vote for?”

“None of your business!”

We batted that back and forth a few moments.

Then came the flip into a world of conspiracies and insanity when he looked at me and addressed me singularly.

“You liberal voting people think only the Jews were killed in concentration camps. But you are the real Nazis.”

“How do you go from talking about WWII and then accuse me of being a Nazi?”

I then put my hand on the table with a whack. Telling him about how my dad got a purple heart as a captain pilot during WWII.

“I respect that you grandfather saved many lives during the war from concentration camps. Yes, there were all sorts of people who died there, and the people were also saved. Gypsies, Christians, Jewish people, I really don’t think it mattered who you were or your faith. Hitler killed anyone opposed to his belief system of inhumanness.”

The man with the beard seemed filled with total contrary ideas that made no sense but only served to confuse and attack others who he found offensive. He is one of the ministers of chaos. Who spreads their hate talk.

It was a really sad moment of the evening, and when he told me he did not give a fuck about Iranian women’s demands for freedom I turned my back to him and walked away with hands up.

Youngest son confused him by saying,

“I didn’t vote for Biden.” (Just to see the bearded mans confused expression of an unexpected answer.) And added,

“Thanks for the story.”

Nothing that going to Denny’s didn’t wash away mighty fast…

At Denny’s youngest son was laughing and said,

“I was staring at the tiles in the bathroom and then I walked out, and you were talking to this guy. It was a weird thing to walk into….”

He really enjoyed the people we met last night between the pub and the bar.

“Alister Crowley adopted different identities when the mood struck him-and, like Trump, did his best to keep his name in the newspapers-and chaos magick asserts that one’s identity is malleable, that one should “reinvent’ oneself often, play different roles. We should pretend to be someone else, to envision a “magical self” possessing all the qualities that we desire, something that some New Thought advocates also suggest . Chaos magick also promotes the idea of using “shock tactics” saying something “outrageous” in order to “enhance personal power,” something that, as with much else about chaos magick, seems to come to Trump naturally.”

Pg. 76-77, Dark Star Rising, Gary Lachman

These chaos ministers are a part of

WE THE PEOPLE,

They are out there,

and it is something to be aware of,

Even at the local bar.

Does George Santos ring a bell? He is an manifestation of this “Crazy Wisdom” of “Chaos magic!”

Seems it is what it is.

In a bar in the San Fernando Valley California to the House of Representatives

bewildering our beloved District of Columbia,

these dark spirits or anti-humans are hanging around,

spreading their chaos, chanting….

Bubble Gum Flopside Comics… so go screw!

Hope “Dancing in The Streets.”

On Fallbrook and Victory in the San Fernando Valley

Punk Rock Historian and Professional Consultant

Hudley Flipside

Life is so contrary and beginning and ending all the time. The stars seem stable, as they dance their astrological dance. The moon and sun and seasons are very dependable but not the storms or the opposite whispers of joy and enlightenment we may find. This earth will always be a contrary place sweetened with continuity and music.

Yesterday before the rain, Sara and oldest son walked over from their apartment. They are counting their steps. Later they left and we decided to join them halfway on their journey home. A longer walk than my usual mile per day.

It was easy all the way until we said goodbye and then we walked slowly onward, and we headed home, husband, youngest son, and I.

Would we get something to eat?

“No, it is past 6 PM and I don’t like eating much after then.”

That is what they get for always asking what MAMA wants.

On the way with Sara and oldest son I noticed a broken book on the ground. The pages danced below our feet for a long while.

I picked up three of the pages as a focused random moment of finding something wandering and enlightening me from the dirty street of trash. On this dark cold evening of winter.

A man was covered with such trash in the middle of the sidewalk next to the shopping mall and restaurants. He was pretending to sleep as cars raced by and we walked around him.

I sadly declared.

“He is going to get mighty wet when the rain hits?”

Husband quickly responded,

“He is most likely waiting for the shopping mall to close down. I am sure he has a safe place there.”

My feet got sore, and my back ached and howled as we headed home.

Now today I read the book pages tossed on the ground like leaves in a storm.

One thing that stood out were the lyrics for a song.

The pages are filled with words about music, slavery, finding a voice and hope. Someone was looking for their roots, history, and family.

I thought about my own family history. I think this is a push to get going with my own pages filled with words about music, slavery, finding a voice and hope. Hope from lyrics. A song inspiring us to dance to the hopeful dream of music.

As the dancing pages on a dark and dirty street.

“This is an invitation across the nation

A chance for folks to meet

There’ll be laughing, singing and music swinging

Dancing in the street.”

sweet and bitter WHEELING AND DEALING

I saw something unexpected today. Billy Idol got a star on Hollywood Blvd. and Mr. Henry Rollins was the presenter. I saw the photograph on a site. Now and then I do like to reflect on my punk rock glory days.

I think upon these two characters that influenced us by their music or words in a big way. I knew them, as many of us did, as youths with deep and high ideals that I once respected.

I met Billy after he left Generation X.

He visited Hollywood. A group of us youthful rebellious punks were talking about music. We were in the back of a liquor store waiting for some beer because we were not 21 yet. Someone was WHEELING AND DEALING with the booze scheme. Billy and I were talking about the Beatles and how much he loved them. He then cried on my shoulder stating to me that he missed his mates back home.

The beer arrived and a friend of mine whisked him away and that was the only time I met him. Over the years when I see him or hear his music, I often reflect back upon that sweet young kid who was kind of lost.

Henry was a wild youth too. He was kind of funny and thoughtful when I first met him. Yet as time went on our friendship soured. I think it was due to a subscription to Flipside Fanzine he never received because his letter fell behind my desk. Maybe the critical reviews I did of him in Black Flag were thought to be unfunny. His lack of humor made it easy to accelerate into doom.

Funny how a guy from England and a guy from DC can be standing on the grounds whereas young punks, who grew up here, used to run wild on those same streets. Then no need, or sense of fame or fortune.

Once equals as friends and fans of the punk scene, they got bigger, and we got smaller. Yet I think I am happy with my place in the world, and I hope they are too.

The sweet and bitter is what punk rock left me. As a punk rock fanatic,