We can't believe it either....

This is the guy that tweeks nobs, hammers beats, and creates real live hurricanes. Plus, he occasionally serves us beer and liquor. A semi-native Oregonian, he provides us with street cred and allows us to use the "local" moniker even though we are dirty Canucks and misplaced Scandahoovians. A scholar and one hell of a father, Mulletbrain is sure to be a hit anywhere and we rent him out for nominal fees. His hobbies include raising praying mantises and gutting prairie dogs for scientific experiments (i.e. hyper-balancing genome cloning).


Say "hey" to him. We love him and we are sure you will also.

House of Scientists

This is Dom Uchenyh (House of Scientists)
Academgorodok, Siberia


this transmission translated from listening post #3761 Iqualit, Nunavit/origin #864 Vladivostock, Russia

All documents housed within are legitimate and authentic. The concrete streets were paved on the backs of the workers and peasantry for the advancement and greatness of our new cosmic future. Please disregard all former studies and experiments and proceed with unbridled enthusiasm towards our rightful celestial empire. Rockets fall only when toppled by lack of vision, creativity, and passion. To our unending quest!!!!!

One and the Oktopus are committed to unscrambling cryptic keys from our shared past to further our research right here in the present. We are currently spending all our time shacked up in a long-forgotten wing of Dom Uchenyh (House of Scientists) pouring over obscure documents and listening to thousands of hours of Cold War-era coded spy transmissions. This building is but one of many popped out of the minds of the Party in a place called Academgorodok. This "city" was created in 1958 out of the Siberian forest to house 65,000 top Russian scientists, professors, academics, and other less well known agents of the CCCP. Please await further information as we will reveal what we have found out (and it is of epic and global importance) at a later date. All we can say for now is...Red Star at the Redeemer Gates.

A Brief Intro and A Quicker Outro

One and the Oktopus is...

ambivilent
mature
polar
well-groomed
helpful
sincere
pensive
mo'
oriental
vacant
frosty
parental
radioactive
foldable
crafty
daring
odorous
atmospheric
freddy
calm
pliable
mechanical
colorless
obvious
creepy
socialist
hard-working
forrest (sometimes)
photogenic
collapsable
magnetic

We come to you in many forms and we only hope that you will embrace one and call it your own. We are nothing if not compliant and bendable.

Happy Ending or Dirty Encore?

One and the Oktopus wish a happy birthday to Kristine. We hope your massage prepared you for your upcoming mental greasedown provided by us truly. You are one old bag!

The Birthing Plunge or A Manifesto about a Manifesto

Welcome to our cultural wasteland. Expect a gas mask and a movie about eating utensils. Don't expect bland and inoffensive thirty-something white politico commentary. Expect to do your dishes sixteen thousand feet under the sea completely impervious to the effects of what you have been told is human-crushing depth pressure. Don't expect to find one single piece of preconceived wit. In fact don't expect to find one single piece of wit anywhere within. Expect pointless electronic meditations on 60's-era Soviet secret towns and ribald debates on the virtues of keeping dogs alive while separating them from their physical brains (for supersecret Soviet science, of course). Don't expect me to be at a desk. Expect me to be writing this on the toliet (which I truly am right now). Don't expect to find out the encrypted locale and domain to the website that will finally melt your consciousness and R.E.M. life into one steaming pile of orgasmic pulsating reality/unreality. Expect that website to also show signs of life along the speed gradient of a mating Oregon slug or a 4'2" grandma behind the wheel of a two-lane Crown Victoria. Expect that circuit bending will become an instant party topic for you and you will further more hold court at all your future social gatherings armed with a stupifying array of mind-blowing almost facts, go-nowhere "jokes", misquoted movie lines, and tasty geographic oddities. Don't expect that we don't know how brilliant that we already are. Expect that anything you have ever thought or will think has already been pondered and dismissed at our daily dissemination meetings. Don't expect melody or harmony or lyrics or actual "music". Expect that your life can now go on with meaning.

This is the beginning of the end.
This is the new Manifesto.
This is decoded and received by Polish spies and translated for posterity.
This is the Fourth International.
This is One and the Oktopus.

We hope you will tune in regularily but we don't really care all that much.