An Introduction from the author of KIN Notes,
    a favorite Son --- a spudly Boddhi --- our "Common 'Tater:"



                                                 Meet the Retards


    Wake up, sleepyheads,

    See the light!

    See your Daddy in a pole-cat fight!

    With that (despised!) ditty, my Dad would stand at the door and awaken my brother and I
    each schoolday morning.

    Catfight indeed . . .  poles of the opposites!

    Wake up, sleepyheads!

    Here I am these many decades later, my father decades dead, the days gone down in the
    West, night settling like pneumonia on the American dream.  Culture wars ravage the
    land, especially the Ur-war of gender, and Daddy long ago lost the pole-cat fight.

    The lawyers clean up all details

    since Daddy had to fly

           “End of the Innocence” (D. Henley)

    The nation changed radically in the intervening years, very little for the better.
    Some things persist, though.  When I was a kid, about the worst thing another kid could
    say to you was “You’re a retard!”

    Remember that?

    Oh, how the floppy does flip!  Pretty quick here, the “retards” are gonna grab us by our
    Nikes, turn us downside up, and SHAKE the Sleepy SHIT out of us.

    As Jesus cleansed the temple and shoved the swine off the cliff. . . .

    Those “retards” might bring Daddy back to ever-loving life.  Watch them and see.  It’ll be
    carried on Cable, but not teevee.  Heee-heeee!

    That quintessential outsider, Jesus, was a Bullgoose Retardo hisself -- a holy nerd in the
    first degree.  Then he cracked his autistic egg, ventured into the Zoo, and ministered to
    the shell-bound Sleeple.

    Right to the scrambled end, the Nazarene never wearied of loving losers:  he was always
    playing the dogs. As he trudged the blighted roads of the Empire-That-Still-Is, gazing
    upon the crucified, the broken, the betrayed and the lost, he was heard to bark:

    I will overturn it!

    He just didn’t say when.

    Well, according to the “retards,” NOW is real close to when.

    QIM Tunes, Tom Smith’s “facilitated communication” (FC) metalogue with five
    institutionalized autistic men, will turn your ontology outside-in, rattle the change in  your
    frontal lobes, and put the Spirit back in spirituality -- where it has long languished beneath
    pseudo-religious “leaders,” market-forcing merchants, power-besotted organizations, and
    demagogues hawking “faith-based initiatives.”

    Within five minutes of engaging Qim Tunes, I was the stunned recipient of not one, but
    TWO, “impossible” synchronicities.

    And no, it was not Mushroom-Tea-Evening.

    Deny this, said Qim Tunes, checking its collective package and chuckling.

    (Are documents allowed to do that?!  I’m sure there’s a law prohibiting it -- we’ve got laws
    against everything else.)

    The Tunes is no comfy ride in the pews.  There is no conventioneer-gladhanding.  It
    doesn’t tell us exactly what we want to hear, then pass the plate and pat our backs on the
    way out the door.

    Oh no, baybee!  It is raw, savage mojo, a caustic elixir for our poisoned world and souls.  
    The faint of heart, the epistemologically smug, the haters, the Sleeple, the Professionally
    Oppressed need not apply within.  Let them crank up the volume on Oprah and Rush, on
    Junior Bush and Slik Willy, and return to Mammon’s Hibernatorium.

    These Tunes peg out the Weirdometer.  If you don’t resonate with them, hey, you never
    even saw the rabbit hole.  You took Morpheus’ Blue Pill, and went back to believing . . .
    well, whatever you need to believe, a satisfied slave of the Ma-tricks.

    The Tunes self-validate, not merely through narrative authenticity, but through the
    nimbus of mysterioso attending contact.  They are an uncanny five-way mirror.  Time and
    space are no barrier.  To look into them is to be ogled by a face both alien and human,
    both impish and divine.

    Qim Tunes synthesizes the codings of kabbalah, the poli-spiritual mission of the Koran
    and Bible, the trans-dimensional questing of shamanism, the messianic authority of
    Qumran, and the psycho-mythic range of Mysterium Coniunctionis.  They are Tunes for
    our times, an eschatological blast on the archangelic winsock trump, a pilgrimage to the
    Father’s pure and purgative black-hole.

    They’ll whack yer noggin with the jooled jujustick.  But good.

    The five participating “Boys” are a wrecking-crew of consensus assumptions and religious
    certainties, demolishing cultural wisdom about the “mentally challenged” and mucho –
    muy mucho -- mas.

    The Prophecy Dire of Director Baldo

    For example, a May 7, 2002, article in the Contra Costa Times entitled “Increase in Autism
    Alarming” documents the skyrocketing numbers of autistic children showing up in
    California schools, and in the culture at large.

    In the hysteric fashion of our times, one Bob Baldo, Director of the Association of
    Regional Center Agencies, bleats:

    We are extremely concerned about what these numbers mean . . .  this has the potential
    to financially almost break the system . . . the human costs are absolutely profound. This
    state can hardly afford to have this continue to go on . . . if there's a way to prevent this
    from occurring, we need to find out awful fast.

    Dear Director Baldo:  it’s a bit late in the Game to be freeking about “human costs,”
    hmm?  Checked the homeless and prison stats recently?

    But rest easy, O Baldo, you are going to “find out awful fast.”

    The Director’s threat of  “prevention” means bringing the full brunt of American Zero
    Tolerance and genetic markering-out to bear on the little retardo slackers . . . just WHO
    ARE these useless Drains on the System, who is this Fearsome Plague the Director warns
    will carry a “profound human cost.

    (Oh well, at least he got the “profound human” part right!)

    But perhaps this surge of “autistics” is expressly designed to “break the System,” afflict
    the State, and discomfit the collective Directors Baldo?  Perhaps no law or “cure” – short
    of genetic genocide -- will “prevent autism from occurring”?  Perhaps the explosion in
    autism, or the explosion in awareness of autism, IS the cure for Director Baldo and his
    increasingly god-like State?

    Autism, like its cousin schizophrenia, manifests individually but is a collective response to
    a collective crisis -- in particular, to spiritual sickness and planetary malady (Mal Lady).  
    Ultimately, autism will not be “managed,” by the State or anyone else.  Despite Director
    Baldo’s pronouncement of doom, the autism “boom” isn’t a step toward the precipice; it’s a
    step away from collective suicide.
       
    Autism is generally defined as a “disconnection” from conditioned social agendas, social
    cuing, speech, and motor-sensory capacity.  But in the psychotic and predatory culture of
    America, children and adults who “disconnect” from collective madness are NOT suffering
    pathology -- rather, they are cleansing themselves from the pathological environment in
    which they exist, and simultaneously offering healing to that environment.

    One seven-year-old, nonverbal autistic boy uses milk-baths for these purposes:
    apparently, it’s an old technique!

    His mom patiently waits for him to stop splattering and splashing.  She’s not sure why he
    does it, but trusts that his actions are neither random nor pointless.

    Like a white blood cell, autism is an agent designed to attack and cure disease, at both
    individual and collective levels.  And like WBCs, autistics are often considered yucky,
    smelly, messy and funny-looking.

    Are autistics savants?  Are they “God” or “just retards”?  Are they God’s agents or foes?  
    Demons?  Angels?  All of the above?

    Don’t ask me.

    Like you, I just work on this funny farm.  Listen to their Tunes and decide for yourself.
    The authors of Qim Tunes are purposely fuzzy about theology, especially the
    “organizational” role of these tuned fraternities.  But they self-identify as “Yahweh” and,
    absurd though it sounds, there is evidence in Qim Tunes  to speculate a special – and
    probably instructive – relationship to non-autistic folks extending to the Paleolithic.
    At least to the Paleolithic.

    So no more snickering about being “M.R.”  Author William Henry -- although, sadly, a neo-
    gynarchist -- offers this helpful hint:

    The Cathars of Southern France, who swapped secrets with the Templars and the Irish,
    called EA’s pillar of light AMOR or love, from the root MR, meaning ‘bright light’.
    Fascinatingly, Meru (the root of Moriah and Mero-vingian) is the name for the central
    pillar of Atlantis. The Greeks called the Atlanteans Meropes in honor of this pillar. MR is
    the name of the oil/substance secreted by the Ark-Pillar.

    The Qim Tunes Boys are the gnowing cloud, and eventually they will turn everybody’s
    cards face-up.  First we will hate them, like we do anyone communicating unpopular
    information.  Then we’ll laugh at them and their advocates.  But eventually, as the
    inevitability of their messages are grasped, as they level the playing field of our hearts, we
    will . . . well, we will hate them a little less.

    LOL!!

    Progress!

    For starters, they’re gonna take our scapegoats away from us, and we’re gonna whine
    and bawl like the self-absorbed infants we are.  They’re gonna resurrect western
    masculinity from the pit of cultural Hades.  Boy: we’ll really hate them for that!  No more
    worshipping Mommy! (Oh no! Waaaaah!)

    Many folks – especially vested organizations -- won’t appreciate their expose of the
    unholy alliance between neo-matriarchy and the self-appointed, transgenerational “elite.”  
    But autistics will reconcile the warring genders, thereby healing divided, suffering Creation
    in a jubilee of wholeness.

    Not perfection.  Wholeness.  Very, very different things.

    Not bad for societal “millstones” and “idiots” that sometimes flop around in
    wheelchairs, drool, and poop their pants, eh Director Baldo?!

    In ancient Jewish tradition, codified in the Torah (Leviticus 25), every seventh year was a
    Shemita, or fallow, year.  Shemita is an extension of the Sabbath concept, which is the
    seventh day of rest” designed for physical, psychological, and spiritual regeneration.  
    The Sabbath is the day of atonement because it unites, and contains, everything within
    itself – including the ur-duality of the sexes.

    Similarly, every 50th year was a Yovel Year, set aside for Jubilee, a period expressly
    mandated by God for overturning -- and thereby balancing -- secular and religious
    society, and its attendant precepts.  During Yovel the land itself was allowed to rest; all
    financial, legal, social, and spiritual debts were annulled and forgiven; prisoners and
    slaves were freed, and each person was permitted to return -- and was welcomed back --
    to his or her “ancestral heritage.

    The concept and practice of Jubilee is merciful and wise, for it breaks cultural,
    psychological, terran and spiritual inertia, and ensures that the wealth of the nations --
    and of the Earth itself -- does not fall under domination of any particular person or group.  
    A hidden aspect of “Yahweh’s” insistence upon Sabbath, Shemita and Jubilee was (and
    is) compassion for the suffering of the Earth itself, which -- despite the efforts of modern
    humans to whip it into hyper-production -- needs rest, like any other entity.  All the
    organisms that “support man” need also their hours of calm, joy, and contentment, lest
    the world be only an endless machine, a mathematized, Manufactured Hell.

    Under Jubilee, the powerful cannot forever oppress the powerless.  Fresh energy is
    injected into stagnant systems, and hope rises, renewed.

    Jewish Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement.  Tellingly, the priests of the “Millennial
    Temple” described in Ezekiel and Isaiah all wear linen on this day -- indicating that they
    are in a perpetual state of Yom Kippur.

    Rudolph the Read-Nosed Rain Dear Meets VALIS Overmindus

    Through Qim Tunes, our anti-heroes document the self-outing of an ancient brotherhood
    of extraordinary power and understanding, shrouded for eons safely behind “autism,”
    growing and learning beside us, tweaking and shepherding the human project.

    The Tunes consist largely of questions from facilitator Tom Smith, and cryptic answers
    from the five Doods.  In part, “Qim” stands for “quotes I am” or “source.”  These Boys
    may be “leaders” of a hidden autistic network, communicating in various ways, including
    telepathically.

    Rudolf Steiner notes:
    Brotherhood-Lodges evolve into Dhyanic Beings. These Beings are, as it were, a
    collection of cells, forming one Spiritual Being. The brotherhood-Lodge of the Adepts will
    guide as one Dhyanic Being. Here again is an enrichment of evolution. In the middle of
    the Fourth Round lies a very important point. Human Spirits begin to unite into a
    Brotherhood and to form a Dhyanic Being.  

    Rudy was a sharp dood.  Philip K. Dick and Terence McKenna also were secret sharers,
    kin to the hidden brotherhood.  Dick’s mystical correspondence with the “alien” VALIS
    (Vast Active Living Intelligence System) chimes with the cosmo-planetary sentience of
    certain autistics.  In his novel of the same name, Dick called VALIS a “spontaneous self-
    monitoring neogentropic vortex” functioning as partial antidote for what Phil called “the
    Empire that never ended,” whose most recent reincarnation he recognized in the Nixon
    Administration -- and we likewise recognize in the transgenerational monarchies of
    Reagan, Clinton, the burning Bushes, ad nauseum.

    Like many Gnostic sectarians, ancient and modern, P.K. Dick saw the Earth as an
    enormous “Black Iron Prison” ruled by archonic planetary Powers whose despotism was
    exercised through systematic traumatization, propagandistic conditioning, and tyrannical
    social management -- all secreted within the illusion of political self-determination,
    “democracy,” and “progressivism.”

    Homeoplasmates” was the word Dick used to describe the liberative and semi-divine
    “agents” of VALIS.  He suggested that when Rome razed Jerusalem’s Second Temple in
    70 B.C.E., time itself ceased.  The “homeoplasmates” escaping execution dove
    underground, resurfacing in 1945 (a rescencion of the Fallen-Host theme in Judeo-
    Christian and apocryphal thought, with Ur-War between the genders recapitulated as
    apocalyptic Endtime War.)

    Through Qumran and other sources, Dick claimed that the “homeoplasmates” kickstarted
    time again, as living water fell from the scroll-jars of Nag Hammadi.
      
    P.K. Dick’s “God” -- like America’s throwaway “psychos” and autistic “retards” -- hides
    amongst the detritus and banalities of life, and, as Dick writes, mimics “sticks and trees
    and beer cans in gutters,” presuming “to be trash discarded, debris no longer needed.”  
    Not surprisingly, the wisest alchemists also called the Philosopher’s Stone “the
    commonest of things, available in every street and marketplace.”

    Autistic Jeffrey Powell, Jr., begins his superb prophetic poem “In Jupiter’s Realm
    Waiting,” thus:

    In light of hopeless voices changes can't be avoided,
    I'm staying in the likeness of molten calm.
    It's hot in the crater, but like stopped stone on the surfaces,
    I'm hoping to master my knoll of Jupiter soon.

    It is like the oldest godlike firths in the deepest recesses.
    Great thunder rolling after the firestorm,
    warning that the dragons still wait and watch.
    But giving the dreamer hope that they will not find the opening
    as long as the stony surface remains still.


    Still with us, Director Baldo?  :O)

    P.K. Dick’s “deity” is not encountered by neocortical forays into celestial
    rarification, nor in tour-de-forces of cosmic power, but in humble descent to
    everyday living, the hour-to-hour struggle to remain a feeling, empathetic being, in
    touch and love with Creation.

    Bowmaster Erik Davis, writing on VALIS, updates the Gnostic cosmology and splits
    the planetary tree:

    The world is a prison not because of its materiality—which was the opinion of the
    ancient Gnostics—but because of the hidden orders of power and control it houses:
    the various corporate, political, and ideological archons herding us into increasingly
    compelling synthetic worlds.  

    Not coincidentally, the late Terence McKenna – a Walking Novelty who was actually
    early -- was the West’s chief explicator of synchronic teleology, the notion that not
    all events are “determined” by replicable cause and effect -- as the scientific
    method demands -- but rather are pulled, or attracted, by a numinous Cause located
    in the future, magnetizing the past to its ultimate Source.

    In the afterword to Philip Dick’s neo-gnostic compilation, In Pursuit of Valis:
    Selections from the Exegesis, McKenna relates how one fateful day in 1971, the
    yammering wound of the Logos passed from himself to Philip Dick -- even as
    McKenna’s natal brother, Dennis, was facing down the void in Amazonia:

    Unknown to me, a struggling, overweight SF writer, an idol of mine since my teens,
    discovered the next day that his house had been broken into, his privacy violated
    by the Other . . . the torch had been passed, in a weird way the most intense phase
    of my episode of illumination/delusion ended right where Phil’s began.
    This raises some questions:
    Can we refer to a delusional system as a folie a' deux, if the deux participants have
    never met and are practically speaking, unaware of each others’ existence?
    Does the delusion of one visionary ecstatic validate the delusion of another? How
    many deluded, or illuminated ecstatics does it take to make a reality? PKD proved
    that it only takes one. But two is better.

    Indeed, two is better -- it spreads out the paranoia!  And the blame!
    And as various groups of “adepts” have long known -- and these autistic Boys prove
    -- a bunch is better than two!

    Egoic, individuated consciousness is a necessary evil, an effective illusion of recent
    vintage, originating in the Paleolithic via shamanic (i.e., autistic) spiritual
    brotherhoods, as a defense and tactic of individuation against hive-mind female
    hegemony (matriarchy).  Human consciousness is not an isolate, nor a stranded
    singularity.  We are composite beings, at the microbiological and macro-spiritual
    levels.

    Troops: eets crowded out there, and in here.

    McKenna raves on:

    Phil wasn’t nuts. Phil was a vortex victim. Schizophrenia is not a psychological
    disorder peculiar to human beings. Schizophrenia is not a disease at all but rather a
    localized traveling discontinuity of the space-time matrix itself. . . [T]here is an idea
    that wants to be born, it has wanted to be born for a very long time. And sometimes
    that longing to be born settles on a person. For no damn good reason.

    Then you’re "it," you become the cheese, and the cheese stands alone. You are
    illuminated and maddened and lifted up by something great beyond all telling. It
    wants to be told. It’s just that this idea is so damn big that it can’t be told, or rather
    the whole of history is the telling of this idea, the stuttering rambling effort of the
    sons and daughters of poor old Noah to tell this blinding, reality-shattering, bowel-
    loosening truth. And Phil had a piece of the action, a major piece of the action.

    He shore did – and man, do I relate.

    But these autistic Boys are the action.  They make Phil and Terence look like
    newbies, plebes, virgins upon the wild, wide, waving Kosmik See.

    Autistics and schizophrenics share a continuum, with the former acutely aware of
    shadow/unconscious processes, and the latter largely unaware, in denial, or out-of-
    control.  Schizophrenia is a nigredo, a blackening process of individuation -- the
    fast track preceding the cure, ashes work in the soul’s basement.  Deep-autism
    (what diagnosticians usually call “Kanner’s Syndrome”) is insanity’s end-result,
    what Jung called the realized Self, what Jesus called the White Stone.

    As McKenna put it: “Being is a solid state matrix and psychosis is the
    redemptive process ne plus ultra.”  Jesus sang harmony:

    Those who seek should not stop seeking until they find. When they find, they will be
    disturbed. When they are disturbed, they will marvel, and will reign over all.

    (2, Gospel of Thomas, Scholars’ Translation)

    This isn’t to suggest that the Qim Tunes Boys are crazy.  It is to suggest,
    however, that the rest of us, in varying degrees, are.  Take a walk around the
    neighborhood.  Wanna argue the point?


    [B]ooks will be given to the righteous and the wise to become a cause of joy and
    uprightness and much wisdom. And to them shall the books be given, and they shall
    believe in them and rejoice over them, and then shall all the righteous who have
    learnt therefrom all the paths of uprightness be recompensed . . . [I]n those days the
    Lord bade (them) to summon and testify to the children of earth concerning their
    wisdom: Show (it) unto them; for ye are their guides, and a recompense over the
    whole earth.
                   (1 Enoch 104, 12-13; 105, 1)



    Hanging at the Crossroads

    Evolving humanity, and evolving Earth, have arrived at quadrivium, our crossroads,
    our four-way street.  Spiritual revival, with concomitant physical transformation, is
    necessary to pass the thresholds now before us.  Tweaking the old System won’t
    feed the bulldog.  Monsters lead the masses.  Earth is exhausted and begs for
    Sabath, its final child.

    Creation holds its breath, steps into the crucible.

    In the Roman Empire -- where we languish still -- the quadrivium was the site of
    many crucifixions, the better to instruct passing travelers in the subtleties of
    “law.”  Our nation, and our planet, is also being crucified within what Joyce called
    “the nightmare of history.”

    At present, we are plummeting full-tilt through the spirals of Hell, and the West --
    with America whipping the black-mare team -- is leading the freefall.  Babylon
    revisited.
    Therefore the initiators of spirituality -- and of masculinity itself -- are summoned
    back, to remind us where manhood began, and even more importantly, why.  When
    the life of the Spirit is abandoned, when Brotherhood is outlawed, when maleness is
    vilified and disenfranchised, when fathers are divided from children, cultures
    plummet, regressing to gynarchic roots.  The olde dragon Tiamat resurrects, and
    rules again from the Sea of Chaos.

    Over the past four decades, the West has fallen to waste, descending into mass
    psychosis and recapitulating the ancient psycho-social conditions of matriarchy --
    alternating ecstasy and horror.  Like the unevolved primates they are,
    transgenerational (non)elites have funded and abetted the oppression of American
    men, using neo-matriarchy to crush opposition and dialogue.  The imprisonment,
    degradation, and neutering of masculinity ensures that American men will not --
    cannot -- regain their spiritual heritage and bearings, and rise up in cultural revolt.

    Therefore, the ancient initiators and conservators of spirituality have voluntarily
    abandoned their hidey-holes, emerging to offer us their hands.

    Like all authentic prophecy, Qim Tunes is a living document, in the full, chilling
    sense of that phrase.  It not only bends time and space, it makes a monkey of them.  
    As Tom Smith correctly notes, the “validation” is built-in, a quality shared with all
    genuine spiritual texts from The Epic of Gilgamesh onward.

    And to make all men see what is the fellowship of the mystery, which from the
    beginning of the world hath been hid in God, who created all things by Jesus Christ:
    To the intent that now unto the principalities and powers in heavenly places might
    be known by the church the manifold wisdom of God
                   (Ephesians 3)

    On my first few readings, I was amazed at the ability of the Boys to predict events
    seven or eight years into the future, including my own involvement with the Tunes
    and arcane aspects of my personal history.

    But that’s tater-tots.  The revelations contained in Qim Tunes stretch backward into
    prehistory, and forward into the coming Kingdom of God.  It’s concordances extend
    from Qumran to The Urantia Book, from the verse of contemporary autistic prophets
    like Jeffrey Powell, Jr., to the Venus of Lascaux, right down to the nub, the genesis
    of religion and egoic consciousness in the Stone Age.

    In many respects, Qim Tunes parallels the Dead Sea Scrolls.  Both are chiefly
    eschatological documents addressing not the ancient world, but modern times.  
    Both document sets concern the inclusion of outcasts/scapegoats, both were
    transcribed within “Michaeline communities,” and both involve the destiny of the
    Host/Primal Horde.
    Perhaps the Tunes are part of the ur-tongue of Creation, the fabled Green
    Language.

    Author and comparative mythologist William Henry notes:

    The Incas called the Bird Language the Court (Core) Language, because diplomats
    used it.  The Bird Language was used to conceal the hidden (core) meaning of
    diplomatic communications from all but those initiates in the inner circle . . .
    ancient alchemical texts and mystery teachings, like the diplomatic communications
    of the Incas, are sealed to all but those who understand the Bird Language.  To
    outsiders these texts appear incomprehensible.   

    Most occult and magical texts (including sculpture, engravings, and petroglyphs),
    although employing the Language of Nature, are coded to keep the “zoo animals”
    out.  Because words and knowledge are power, care is taken to keep the
    “uninitiated,” well . . . uninitiated.  This is less for the benefit of the “insiders” than
    for the protection of the untrained.  If that sounds “elitist,” well, it is.

    Yet these five autistic men have specifically requested that their esoterica be diced
    and fed to the Zoo (us).  Elsewise, dear reader, rest assured: I wouldn’t have offered
    these speculations, nor recommended the text to another soul.  

    The bulk of communication between and amongst autistic networks seems to occur
    through “tunes” and “tones” -- from “below” and “above,” respectively.  These are
    hybrid musical and telepathic processes, possibly developed and individuated as
    humanity’s first language arose from the collective soup of shared
    (maternal/undifferentiated/edenic) consciousness.  Male “shamans” (autistics) were
    instrumental in advancing humanity from its initial Collective Mind, indivisible from
    Nature, to group individuation, and later to egoic personalities.  Modern deep-otties
    sometimes remain more functional in the archaic Collective Mind mode of (un)
    consciousness; the most advanced autistics shift amongst individual, group, and
    collective states -- typically sacrificing many sensory/motor/normal functions in the
    process.

    Modern self-consciousness is so claustrophobic, leadership so corrupt, and
    civilization so fractured and toxic, that only the outsiders, the throw-away Kleenex
    Men, the “retards,” now know who we were, are,  and can be.  Their harrowing of
    our little corner of Hell is a draught of cruel kindness to bring us around, like Elrond
    calling Frodo back to light and life as Sauron’s war-machine hems Rivendell on
    every side.  Over our chests these Boys kneel, cup their hands, and breathe into
    humanity new life, a second innocence.

    . . . . And yet Director Baldo figgers they’re dead weight.  Tax gobblers!  Plagues!
    Genetic pathologies!

    The evidence I’ve seen suggests instead that “normal folks” are the geno-typical
    blunders.  Or maybe, as the Boys hint, we’re all somewhat “autistic,” and don’t
    know it.

    Yet.

    But the Qim Tunes Boys didn’t surface for any sympathy concertos.  They’re not
    interested in patronizing attaboys. They’re here to call out the Tyrants, and to usher
    in, Monty Pythonesque, Something Completely Different.