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The Six DOGS venue in Athens plays a central role in enabling the pedophilia apologetics of Alexander Voulgaris by hiring him to book lots of bands for a recurring multi-day music festival, presenting a veritable banquet of what the alternative music scene in Athens has to offer. I am sure a lot of the bands in Athens will appreciate the opportunity to perform, what with performance-spaces in Greece shutting down at an alarming rate. But this is also how you get everyone in the hipster cult to collude with your pedophilia advocacy: you book dozens and dozens of bands to play all at once, effectively making yourself into the one-stop-shop for anyone wanting to be in on the Athenian hipster cult, and thus everyone goes hush about your pedophilia advocacy because who would dare argue with or about someone who is the spider in the middle of the web, who knows and courts every band in Athens and can get them booked because he does the booking?

The following part of this blog entry is pure fiction, and no relation to existing people or events is implied.

πυτζάμα πάρτι @ E. Benaki Blvd

by drs. Efthimia Dilpizoglou (c) 2014 all rights reserved

You’re a government funded film maker, and that means you are definitely in it for the money[1]. So what happens is that you as a government funded artist invite all these other bands and their audiences to your house earning yourself the reputation of being this benefactor Svengali of the Greek alt music scene. People come out of the woodwork in droves to attend your living room festival because everyone knows that you’ve received government funding, and nothing attracts a crowd in depression-era Greece like the weak flicker of the government bling being poured over you in appreciation like a golden shower amidst the darkness of austerity budget cuts. So many bands and their audiences show up uninvited demanding you let them in, regretably you have to hire a bouncer for the first time in your life, having a very hard time finding one who isn’t a moonlighting Golden Dawner. While the festival commences you go around the party picking out all the hipster chicks you’d like to shoot S&M porno movies with. The most gamioles of them all, you slip them your businesscard with a wink and a smile. You can hear το Γρύλισμα, you’ve been hearing it all night, you whisper back: “I wish I could audition them right here, right now, that would be so neat, I know you would like that, I don’t even know the name of the band onstage right now but the soundtrack is perfect. I need to download this song from Bandcamp later.”. Το Γρύλισμα is eating chunks of your brain, anyone standing next to you can hear the smacking-sounds. All the while you’re hoping that the festival will degenerate into a giant orgy spilling out into the streets, which never happens because everyone still remembers the last riot police raid and everyone fears the riot police who are Golden Dawn members. Even more than the GawdDamned riot police they fear having to face their parents who have to put up with them still living at home and would happily see them tossed into a cell to get rid of them for a while. Το Γρύλισμα pulls out the drinking straw from an empty glass and is now sucking whatever is left of your brains out of your ears, people nearby turn over annoyed and give you angry stares because the slurping sounds are drowning out the band. You are giggling nervously at no one in particular imaginging what you must look like with a drinking straw sticking out of your ear, but a girl across the living room thinks you’re flirting with her and smiles, beaming proudly. You hadn’t noticed her before so you go over and hand her your businesscard. Another girl you handed your businesscard to earlier comes over and, like everyone else who takes the liberty of doing so lately, inquires about your dick. “Dick? What dick?!”. Το Γρύλισμα σου κατάπιε το dick ολόκληρo πριν από πολύ καιρό, long before anyone seemed to care. Once you sang,  “Spelling my name. I a-m s-a-d. I have a small cock.”, and no one knew how self-pitying that little white lie was. Small? Try none at all. Try living the rest of your life with the one who castrated you demanding every moment of your waking and sleeping hours. No one knew that the Boy was a eunuch and that his endless stream of porn on Facebook was but a lamentation for what was long lost. You patiently explain to this girl that you are not an actor, you are a screenwriter who just happens to shoot his own scripts because no one else will do it, but for the sake of her safety she will be working with an experienced sadist. You tell her you will be directing her yourself, but she is already disappointed and hands you back the businesscard. “99 monkeys on this island, that’s one less”, you tell yourself and shrug indifferently. “I am a professional pornographer competing on the free market for S&M movies, I sell an image and a fantasy, I am not renting space in my ass, I am definitely not dropping trou to show everyone Frank’s little carp. Only a pathetic amateur screws their own actresses, remember that if you wanna work in this industry. Who the fuck am I, Shine Louise Houston who casted half her lesbian harem in her Pink&White productions? Εχουμε και επίπεδο.”. Το Γρύλισμα thought your trout was fishbait that one fateful night you made the fatal mistake of dropping your pants when you should’ve kept them on, but you have never told anyone, not even your psychologist. You stick your hand in your pocket. Instead of feeling the tip of your dick you feel your Smartphone which you keep on you in case a girl gets really drunk and a group of your hipster friends take her upstairs and have their way with her like in that Annabel Chong movie you were studying earlier in the day, you know which one, το Γρύλισμα certainly knows which one, the one where she’s anally taken by a team of football players in the locker-room, one of them penetrating her at an angle that has surely irreparably destroyed her sphincter. (“Πώς στο διάολο τα ξέρεις αυτά;!”, “Don’t you know I am a hardcore anti-porn feminist with a civil stalking conviction? To say I am keeping track of the enemy is an understatement.”). You look at your Smartphone and see the following message: “Invite/RSVP-only Pedo πυτζάμα πάρτι @ Alex’s crib on E. Benaki Blvd follow the line stretching around the block lulz XD PS. A.C.A.B.!!!”. You feel so good, you feel like 90 000 bucks tonight. Everybody hollatcha BoyBoy, are we having fun or what people? Ας πεθάνουμε όλοι μαζί. Περισσότερα παιδιά θα σωθουν ετσι από βέβαιο βιασμό. Over the music you hear the wailing sirens getting louder. For a moment your phantom αρχίδια σφίγγουν. Το Γρύλισμα shrinks into a soaking wet sock in the back of your head where your brain is missing. If there was an orgy going on at your house the next scene might have been more like something out of Fritz the Cat, but since there isn’t you brace yourself for the raid.


[1] Appropriated from “Portrait of the artist as a worker” by Dieter Lesage. Unfortunately only his latest version of the text, “Portrait of the artist as a researcher” is available online:

το Γρύλισμα appears courtesy of ΜΟΥΣΙΚΟ ΚΙΝΗΜΑ: (ΜΑΥΡΕΣ) ΤΡΙΧΕΣ.

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