The title comes from the doughty Megatherion's Autohagiography--"My responsibility to the gods was to write as I was inspired; my responsibility to mankind was to publish what I wrote. But it ended there. As long as what I wrote was technically accessible to the public...my hands were clean."--which is fitting, because this book is itself something of a saintly memoir. Read about Tom's teenage gig performing grotesquely on the harp at a geothermal spa, deep in the savage Utah desert. The place is run by a coven of polygamist Kali-worshipping tantric orgiasts who sell fake Crowleyana to rock star Jimmy Page.Along the way, a journey is made in teen Tom's acid-addled mind to Germany's Stauffenberg Castle, where the Father of LSD conducts the World's First Planned Psychedelic Trip with Ernst Junger. A side-jaunt is taken to Enlightenment Vienna, where we cringe along with poor Mozart as he tries to teach a noble patron's daughter to play a substandard concerto--which just happens to be the highlight of Tom's repertoire.
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