[4] in Humor
HUMOR: Pranksters try to lighten up rat race
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (abennett@MIT.EDU)
Fri Jan 14 16:44:54 1994
From: abennett@MIT.EDU
To: humor@MIT.EDU
Date: Fri, 14 Jan 94 16:39:40 EST
Date: Thu, 6 Jan 1994 01:09:48 -0700
From: Espacionaute Spiff domaine! <matossian@aries.colorado.edu>
Pranksters try to lighten up rat race
By John Flinn
San Francisco Examiner, Sunday, January 2, 1994
A clown with a briefcase? Hey, no problem. If he wants to ride a
Muni bus, who's even going to notice? This is San Francisco, after all.
But then, two stops later, a second clown boards the 38-Geary. Next
stop, two more clowns. They've all got briefcases. Soon the bus is half
full of clowns. They're reading the paper, gazing out the window,
checking their watches. They don't seem to know each other.
Waiting at the next corner is another clown, briefcase in hand. By
now the Muni driver is thoroughly rattled. He veers past the bus stop
without even slowing down.
Glancing nervously in his rearview mirror at his red-nosed passengers,
he yells: "I'm tired of messing with you goddamn clowns!"
Score another one for the Cacophony Society, an underground network of
merry pranksters, street thespians and guerrilla performers dedicated
to throwing a monkey wrench into the grinding machinery of everyday life.
...
A loosely knit group of about 600 pranksters, Cacophony prides itself on
having no leaders, no bylaws, and no organization. It is steadfastly
nonpolitical, nonreligious and, according to its newsletter, "often
nonsensical."
...
Old-timers are still chuckling over a classic ... prank from the late
1970's. Slipping into the elevator at the posh Sir Francis Drake Hotel,
they stripped off their clothes and donned shower caps, back scrubbers
and suds. When hotel guests tried to use the elevator they found themselves
unwittingly barging in on this group taking a "shower."
Every few years, taking advantage of a massive underground bunker beneath
a closed factory complex in the East Bay, the group stages an event they
call "the Atomic Cafe."
Members dress in Mad Max or Blade Runner garb for a "post-apocalypse,
end-of-the-world" party, complete with a live band and an A-bomb
pinata. They are greeted at the entrance by a man who is naked and
glowing green, and dine on that bomb shelter staple, Spam.
"All this is patently illegal," said member Harry Haller, 43. "But we
have a strong belief that we don't damage anything or leave a mess or
take anything. We always leave the place as clean as we found it, so no one
could ever tell we were there."
While many pranks involve trespassing and other infractions, they say no member
has ever been arrested during a Cacophony event. Still, police generally
are not amused - although they stop short of calling the group a menace
to society.
The authorities who know them best are the Golden Gate Bridge police,
who are called out each year to break up the group's annual formal dinner
party, held next to the span's north tower.
"They're not a serious problem, but they're nonetheless a problem," said
Sgt. Daniel Brown. "They're blocking the sidewalk and disrupting traffic.
If someone was involved in an accident, they'd be held liable."
It's not the Cacophony's fault that the public sometimes misses the joke.
Such was the case in 1991 when the group organized a protest of the
movie "Fantasia."
One set of protesters, calling itself Sensitive Parents Against Scary
Movies - or SPASM - decried the film for being frightening to small
children. "Calorically challenged" people blasted the use of dancing
hippos. And the Bay Area Drought Relief Assistance Program - BAD RAP -
criticized Mickey Mouse for wasting water during his sorcerer's
apprentice scene.
Time magazine took it seriously. It cited the protest in an essay about
America becoming a nation of whiners and complainers. Examiner columnist
Rob Morse also got taken in, calling the protesters a "fringe pressure group."
In 1990, for the MacWorld Expo, the group created a fictional company,
Rosebud Technology, complete with business cards, T-shirts, product
literature and press releases. At a press conference, they unveiled a
modem that could supposedly transmit data faster than the speed of light.
It got a brief mention in the publication Micro Times.
One of the group's most popular events is a tour, in formal wear, through
the sewers of Oakland. Members wear tuxedos or formal gowns above the
waist - and hip waders below - to slosh through the stinky underground
catacombs.
The route is well planned, but sometimes things go awry. Once, finding
a key passage blocked, the group got lost, wandered through the system
for quite some time and eventually emerged from a storm drain in a vacant
lot in East Oakland.
Neighborhood residents watched in amazement as 40 elegantly dressed
people climbed out of the hole, eyes blinking in the bright sunshine.
Someone got the idea that this was a Ku Klux Klan gathering and phoned
the police.
The two Oakland officers who arrived had no idea what to make of the
situation. Jaws agape, they stared in silence for several moments
before one nudged the other and told him to get back in the patrol car.
"Forget this, Joe," the cop said, shaking his head. "Just forget this."
The Cacophony Society's phone number is (415) 665-0351.
