A year ago today, Feb 19, 2014, Mike Ruppert took leave from the el rancho here in Colorado for points west, steered by fate, guided by destiny, aligned by stars and, like all of us, hindered by time and place, by age and by all that we cannot leave behind, no matter how far we travel. His decision came quickly, calls were made and some new accommodation was found on the west coast, in NoCal, close to where MIke had departed from eighteen months earlier, with someone he knew but not well. Mike was sure but he wasn’t, only knew he had to make the move and it had to happen immediately. This was Mike, acting on impulse but always with a direction. My heart broke a bit that morning; we got his vehicle packed, Rags climbed in and we said our goodbyes with a long hug. Back in the house I watched him creep his way to the end of the driveway and stop at the green gates, at the edge of the cosmic highway. Mike got out and had some communication with the range then scattered tobacco in the breeze before making the turn headed west then out of sight. It’s possible I knew then we would not see each other again. I remember that feeling and it made me sad. I cried for MIke that morning, wept for the man, my friend, felt how fragile life really is, the weight of it all laid bare in the newly scattered vacancy of the el rancho. Six weeks later Mike would be dead, shot in the head by using the one gun he did not sell. “I thought you were selling all the guns?” “Yeah, well I decided to keep this one…you know…for the trip out west. Gonna sell it when I get out there.” Yeah, sure. Mike had numerous attributes but he was a terrible liar. The evening after the suicide, the spirit of Mike arrived back at the el rancho. Following his sudden departure, I left Mike’s room undisturbed until he had made it safe to NoCal then moved the studio back into that sweet end of the el rancho with the smooth plaster walls and warm vibe. Mike and I covered a lot of ground that evening, it seems, and over a couple of hours much clarity was arrived at relative to our relationship and to the world at large. From its particular vantage, the spirit of MCR painted a very clear picture, in that, as we were there in the room together, I kept hearing the water heater spring on for a short time then cut off. This would only happen if somewhere in the house hot water was turned on. But it wasn’t, I was in the house alone and had been since he left. The north wing of the house and it’s bath and shower facilities had not been engaged in weeks. I checked the studio bathroom and the kitchen but all faucets were shut. To complete the inspection, I checked the spare back bathroom in the north wing and sure enough, the hot water tap had been loosened just enough to flow and toggle the water heater. I chuckled. We chuckled. The message was clear, this was MIke reporting back one final time indicating how we, all of us, this planet and this life are in deep HOT WATER. Make of it what you will. Go about your merry and recall always how life is fragile and the end is always near. Be kind. Be thankful. Be grateful. Pic from the morning of Mike’s departure, with neighbor Roman in the middle. Squishy and Rags.
It was mid-December, 2009 when Mel Gibson and his then girlfriend Oksana Grigorieva knocked on the door of the Venice Arts Club in Venice, CA. Mel had heard about the VAC through Michael Ruppert, a regular at the VAC and a founding member of the New White Trash, one of several music projects produced by the VAC. Being a Sunday evening, it was a slow night, with perhaps only a half-dozen people in the studio. I answered the door, greeted Mel and Oxana then ushered them through the studio and into the backyard where a fire was blazing in the outdoor firepit.
I can tell much about people according to how they react to the VAC dogs, especially to Squishy, a pit bull with a poker face. It’s typical of Squishy to wait until the other dogs have made their introductions before coming around and introducing himself. His big mug can be intimidating, and on more than one occasion someone visiting the VAC has refused to enter, simply because of catching sight of Squishy. This was not the case with Mel, who, upon spotting Squishy, let out a big chuckle and made his way over and introduced himself to the Squish.
It was a great start to a fun evening, all of us sitting around the fire, telling stories, playing music. Oksana explained how she was looking to re-mix a track off of her recently released album, Beautiful Heartache, and would the VAC be interested in the project? In getting to know Mel, it turned out we had both lived in the same area of Sydney (Paddington) at the same time back in the late 70’s. I mentioned Zelda the ‘cat lady’ and he knew exactly who I was speaking of. Small world. Mel took a genuine interest in the years I spent fishing on the Great Barrier Reef, turned out his love of Australia was equal to mine.
Somehow Mel and I got on to speaking about my bouts with cancer. When I told him I had twice been given 6 months to live and had pulled through on both occasions, he let out a low whistle, put his arm on my shoulder, looked me in the eye and just kind of nodded his head. And that was that, no more was said about it.
A short while later Venice guitar god Michael Jost showed up, unpacked his axe and played for all of us. Fortunately, mix-guru Andy Kravitz was in the house, at the board, and was able to capture the moment. From that, CAMPFIRE SONG was born and now appears on Volume 6 of the VAC MUSIC PROJECT. Mel makes a cameo appearance at the end of the song with some words of praise for Jost’s playing. Around about midnight, Mel and Oksana said their goodbyes and drove off. And so ended another evening at the VAC.
The next morning around 10am my phone rang from a number I didn’t recognize. I answered and said hello.
“Doug, it’s Mel. Thanks for last night. How are you?”
“Mel? Fine, how’s everything?” My mind was racing; having figured that he or Oksana had left something behind I walked outside to check the grounds for anything stray or out of place. “What’s up?” I asked.
“Doug, I want you to come up to my house, there’s some people I want you to meet.” Mel asked if I could make it the next day. I said yes, he gave me the address and said see you then.
I spent the rest of that day thinking, WTF? My first thought was that I had mentioned to him about an Australian writer he had never heard of and that he wanted more info. So the next day, armed with that writers book, I drove up to Malibu and found his house. Mel greeted me at the front door, gave me a bear hug and invited me in. He then introduced me to his family, who were there for the holidays, including his kids, his sister and his father. Mel then ushered me into another room where a team of health care practitioners were waiting to discuss my health/cancer concerns and offer advice and information on various forms of treatment. After a while, Mel stuck his head in and asked me if I was hungry. I said sure. He went into his kitchen and proceeded to make me a sandwich which he brought on a tray with an iced tea!
This went on for several days, each day I would meet with experts in the field of health and healing, all of whom had insightful information about treating cancer and maintaining my health. And each day Mel would offer me whatever it was I wanted in the way of food and drink.
In the end I realized there was no motive to Mel Gibson’s generosity, he was simply doing what he was able for someone in need of what he had to offer through what he could arrange. His cause for concern followed by his acts of kindness were genuine and touching and real. I am sorry to hear about his ongoing troubles. The Mel Gibson I know has a heart as big as a house and a warm and generous spirit geared towards sharing light and love.
April 16, 2012
CAMPFIRE SONG – Venice Arts Club Music Project
VAC BACKYARD Image by Cara Tompkins
MICHAEL JOST at VAC Image by Cara Tompkins
SQUISHY.2 Image by Cara Tompkins
DOUG LEWIS Image by Malia Luna
DL AND SQUISHY Image by Cara Tompkins
Mike Ruppert’s song of the week on the Lifeboat Hour for Sunday, March 18, 2012, is BACK ROAD from DOUBLEWIDE, the debut release from the NEW WHITE TRASH, a music project Ruppert founded with Wade De Void and Andy Kravitz. Other members include Cara Tompkins, Kristen Vigard, Malia Luna, James Mathers, Michael Jost, Robit Hairman, Phil Maggini. The 37 song 2-CD collection was recorded at the VAC and mastered by Bob Rice. NWT producer Doug Lewis says this about Back Road: “I liked it immediately and was surprised by the strength of Mike’s performance and how he poured himself into the music. I kept thinking, ‘Meatloaf, Bat Out Of Hell’! And Back Road fit a theme of the NWT which is ‘where the heart is’ as opposed to the apparently more immediate themes of Meltdown, or Running With The New White Trash, or Realize The Lie of war. Back Road is a cousin song to Wherever There, One Good Reason and Trailer Light On, and maybe a couple more.”
In introducing the song Ruppert mentions how a musician friend, Jim Sullins, sent him a hummed hint of a melody over the piano track. From that Ruppert fashioned Back Road.
MICHAEL RUPPERT @ VAC
NEW WHITE TRASH.com
NEW WHITE TRASH. music
DOUBLEWIDE, the 37 song, 2-CD debut album from the New White Trash, chronicles the slide of the former American middle-class down a steep and slippery slope to the New White Trash, a place impartial to race, religion, creed or color. Dubbed, ‘music of the post-paradigm’, NWT members include Wade De Void, Michael C. Ruppert, Andy Kravitz, Kristen Vigard, Robit Hairman, Phil Maggini, Malia Luna, Cara Tompkins, Michele McVicar, Michael Jost.
About the New White Trash and the Post-Paradigm era:
“The New White Trash (NWT) demographic is the outcome of the former middle class being folded in with the working poor and, for good measure, the unemployed and uninsured. The NWT defines and represents a majority of people whose common bond includes and exists beyond the demographics of age, race, location, education. The people of the NWT are the new ‘have-not’s’, and by its nature and size, this vast swath of population (99%) is now squarely at odds with the 1% who own, operate and dispense our corporate universe, big pharma, big food, big oil, big defense and big government included. ‘By the people for the people’ is receding. The Post-Paradigm Era describes the vacuum left by the sudden disappearance of the former American middle class. It is in this vacuum we now find ourselves, tumbling in turmoil as home losses mount, bank balances shrink, and shelters are jammed with the likes of you and I. The good old days are done and dusted. That party is over. The coming chaos of the post-paradigm era will lead to a radical and immediate rethinking and remaking of America or it will lead us to complete devastation.” (from NWT Manifesto/VAC.com)
The durge-like quality of REALIZE THE LIE underscores the message: Running with the dogs of war/We’ve run this race before/It’s rotten to the core/When only War can save you – Realize The Lie
NEW WHITE TRASH, ‘MUSIC OF THE POST-PARADIGM’. Artwork/Cara Tompkins@EWC
NEW WHITE TRASH – DOUBLEWIDE. Artwork/Cara Tompkins@EWC
NEW WHITE TRASH HEADQUARTERS, VENICE CA USA. Image/Cara Tompkins@EWC