This madmen comes rushing into the middle of the town streets one night, crying "Wither is rave? Whither is rave?," carrying a handful of glowsticks-- "I seek Rave! I seek Rave!" The townspeople with their phat pants gather around him and laugh. Then the madmen starts to throw down serious like--

"Is Rave a fad? And where is the underground? I shall tell you. *We have killed Rave*-- you and I. All of us are its murderers. But how did we do this? How could we drink up all of the Smart Bar? Who gave us the broom to mop away the horizon of flyers? What were we doing when we unchained rave from anarchy? Whither is the culture going? Away from anarchy? Towards, already in stagnant commercialism? Is there still anything good or bad? Has it not become quieter? Do we not need glowsticks at every partE? Do we hear nothing as yet of the noise of the phat-panted partydiggers burying Rave? Do we smell nothing yet of the sound decomposition? Raves too, decompose. RAVE IS DEAD. Rave remains dead. And we have killed it. How shall we comfort ourselves with Gap clothing, the murderers of yet another resistance culture? What was strongest and craziest has bled to death under our own knives: who will wipe the blood off for us (and clean the fun-fur?) What bottled 3$ water is there for us to clean ourselves? What other drugs shall we have to invent? Must we not we all become promoters and djs to simply to appear worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed-- at least not in this hyperreal moment, change the channel --for the sake of this deed Rave will be remembered in history as teenPeople magazines and Melrose place."

Here the madmen fell silent and looked again at his listeners; and they, too, were silent and stared at him with phat-panted grins of imcomprehension (astonishment? never!). At last he threw his glowsticks to the ground, and they broke into pieces and went out. "I have come too early. Perhaps I have come far, far too late. My time is not yet; my time has already happened. This deed is still more distant and yet already passed from them than most distant stars and speaker systems-- *and yet they have done it themselves.*"

It has been related further that on the same day the madman forced his way into several warehouses and clubs and there struck up his rant. Led out and rubbed with happE fun-fur, he is said to have replied nothing but: " What after all are these warehouses and clubs now if they are not tombs and sepulchers of Rave?

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<ST> DENIES ALL INVOLVEMENT