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To the worm in the cheese,

the cheese is the universe.

To the maggot in the cadaver, the cadaver is infinity.

And to you, what is your world?

How do you know what is beyond the beyond?

Most of us don't even know what is behind the beyond.

According to Michelangelo, the most beautiful form

in nature is the human body.

This shop on Chicago's East Side caters to those

who would make nature's most beautiful form more beautiful.

Our camera is now positioned behind a two-way mirror

in the dressing room of this shop.

The women you will see have no idea

they are being photographed.

The mirror does not have the usual black backing

and from our side, which remains in darkness,

the mirror functions as a window,

while to those in the dressing room

it appears to be a simple mirror.

So as not to offend these ladies or their lovers

or husbands, and to satisfy the desires

of our own legal department,

we were forced to censor their faces.

''I can give you everything I got

''I can't expect to give what I have not

''I can only give you lovin' 'til the sun goes down

''And until the leaves of summer turn to shades of brown

''l try and l try

''Ooh baby, you know that I can only give ya everything''

According to William Shakespeare,

the most divine aspiration of the human body is love,

but in this bizarre world of ours love takes many forms,

some of them very, well, bizarre.

This is Nassau, capital of the Bahamas,

a small clutter of islands, 3,000 in number,

belonging in the British Commonwealth.

The principal industries of Nassau are providing

tax free havens for United States corporations who wish

to avoid paying their share of the cost of government,

and providing vacationing Americans a way

of spending their money quickly, easily, and comfortably.

There is also a small basket weaving industry,

but we are not here to talk of industry.

These people are the descendants of slaves.

Today they are civilized members of the community,

educated and responsible, but for some

there is still a yearning for the freedom of spirit

and abandon of the past.

Our quest has brought us to Nassau

because this is one of the last places

in the Western Hemisphere where the ancient black arts

of voodoo are still practiced.

Our cameras were hidden in the hills of New Providence,

only three and one-half miles from Nassau.

These people gather religiously every Thursday

to indulge in a most frantic and depraved form of worship.

What you are seeing here is fortunately

a highly revised version of the original terrifying ritual.

In the good old days for example,

a white baby would be kidnapped for sacrifice.

At the peak of the ceremony, the child's body

would be dismembered by clever manipulations

of the machete, and arms and legs

would be thrown into the air in the hope

that the lord god Damballa would be pleased

and smile upon them.

But we'll see none of that here tonight,

for after all, these people are civilized.

The ceremony begins with the lighting of the sacred fire,

a symbol of Damballa's passion.

An important part of the sacrament is rum and ganja,

the latter being none other than simple marijuana.

Voodoo came to these islands over 200 years ago.

The raids on the African slave coast began about 1742

and thousands of these believers were sold

into the West Indies and, later,

further northwest to the Bahamas.

Rum and ganja hasten the elevation of the mood

to spiritual heights.

At the proper moment when the participants

are in the required spiritual mood,

the voodoo king opens the ceremony.

The queen, or mama as she is sometimes called,

officiates at the ceremony.

The ceremony gets underway with the beheading of a chicken.

The white feathered bird serves as a macabre substitute

for the white baby.

The blood is drained into a wooden bowl.

The shot you are now watching was taken

with a 1,000 millimeter telescopic lens

at a distance of almost one mile.

The great serpent of evil, the zombie,

or in this case a small boa constrictor,

is next to be sacrificed.

Its blood is drained into the bowl with that of the chicken.

In this way the fluid of life represented by the baby,

chicken, and the spirit of the devil,

represented by the snake, are mingled.

Their mystical powers are released.

This divine mixture will be drunk by members of the group

who will then be exorcized of their sins.

They will fall to the ground in what is said

to be a hypnotic catatonic state,

their eyes opened in a glazed stare.

In this state they can commit no evil, commit no sins.

They can do no wrong.

While the old laws of voodoo have changed,

the old hexes, gris-gris, and dolls with pins

have fallen into disuse, the primeval sensuality

and spirit of wanton abandonment remain.

Voodoo provides a release from the restrictions

and inhibitions of civilization.

Many of the people here not only do not believe in voodoo,

but do not observe any of the rules

concerning the ceremony itself.

They are here it seems for nothing more

than a weird social gathering.

Discretion compels us to bid adieu to Nassau at this point,

for while these people may be civilized,

most of us are not civilized enough ourselves

to accept some of the more engaging aspects

of their strange, mystical rites.

And now we journey to the distant Orient,

the inscrutable East, Land of the Rising Sun.

The Japanese Empire has

and to service its 96 million people,

has 534 colleges and universities

and 7,220 massage parlors.

This is Kyoto.

This is one of the many massage parlors in the city.

With permission of the management,

we have installed hidden cameras

in both this reception room and one of the massage booths.

Our curiosity in Japan and its numerous massage parlors

was prompted by a growing interest

in what is commonly referred to as the special massage.

There were 14 massage booths, each about 12 feet square.

A hole was cut through the thin wall

of an adjoining massage room where our camera was placed.

A two-way mirror was hung over the hole.

It is now possible for our camera to see

through the mirror into the room.

Because of the low light level in the room itself,

a high-speed black and white film

was used for this sequence.

This man does not know he is being photographed.

He is one of many American businessmen

who expect to find a more permissive atmosphere here

than in the massage parlors back home.

For the legend persists that here

one may obtain a special massage of such rare delights

as to make one's visit to the Orient joyously memorable.

It is quite apparent that this gentleman

is in no way interested in the aggressive activity

that this young lady is providing.

It matters not to him that she's been well-trained

from childhood in customary geisha fashion

in the art of massage and that she knows

every muscle of the body and exactly what pressures

are required to relax the nerves

and stimulate the blood flow.

The stimulation this gentleman is desirous of

is of quite a different nature,

but the young lady speaks no English

and the man obviously speaks no Japanese.

Patience, especially in the Orient, is a virtue.

Finally, he makes his point and he settles down

to thoughts of a more amorous nature.

He is hoping that his first special massage

shall be something to be forever treasured.

It is the answer to a silent prayer.

The special massage girl is lovelier than he had hoped.

Now it's only a matter of time.

She prepares herself for the job

with the grace of a ballerina.

''I can give you everything I got

''I can't expect to give what I have not

''I can only give you lovin' 'til the sun goes down

''And until the leaves of summer turn to shades of brown

Finally, everything is ready

and he knows it is about to begin.

''I can't argue with you to understand

'''Cause after all I am just a man

''You are on my mind when stars appear and shadows fall

''And when every little flower close and no birds call''

Beyond doubt, this special massage

will leave a lasting impression.

I Baby you know that I can only give ya everything I

In addition to culture,

Kyoto is also one of the key manufacturing cities

in the Japanese Empire.

It is, for example, one of the largest exporters

of women's undergarments in the world.

And this is one of the most successful

mail order operations in the United States

with headquarters in Hollywood, California.

Founder and president of the organization is Mr. Frederick,

a man whose unique design capabilities

have made him the most successful underwear salesman

in the world.

His mail order operation has grown

to be one of those remarkable American success stories.

We asked Mr. Frederick to tell us

about his fantastic organization in his own words.

This is our catalog,

the lifeblood of our business.

This is two to three years ahead of its time.

We're supplying our customers with exactly what they want.

We were the first major distributor of braziers

in America that had pushup pads in them.

In addition, we supplied padded braziers

for women in the larger bust sizes

who want to look younger not just bigger.

We felt the B cups might wanna look like Cs

and the C cups like Ds, and we found that we weren't wrong.

Also, our specialty items add a great deal

of interest in our catalog.

The girdle, for example, with the open seat

was designed because I do not like a woman

in a pair of capris to have a buttressed, cemented in look.

We give her the support where she needs it,

in the tummy and hips, and we cut it out

where it appears undesirable.

We developed the hole in the middle bra for the same reason.

We make periodic quality checks using live models

with known sizes.

The Frederick's catalog is sent to all of our customers

six times a year at a yearly postage cost

to us of $150,000.

90% of our customers are women, 60% of whom are married,

and of that group, 50% had two or more children.

Our mailing list consists of over a million names

and we service people in over 71 foreign countries.

Our mail order department employs approximately 300 people.

All mail is opened on the day it arrives.

If it gets in early enough, it's possible for the item

to be on its way to the customer the next day.

Frederick's is an industrial symphony,

a medley of machinery, letters, and underwear.

If the human spirit is divine as Dante said,

then the temple of that spirit is the human body.

We journey now to Sydney, Australia

to witness a demonstration of the mysterious powers

of the mind and their effect on the human body.

These members of the press and the medical profession

are gathered here at the University of Sydney

to investigate the claims of Jack Schwarz, a Dutchman,

who has the amazing ability to prevent disease

and infection in his body.

Mr. Schwarz makes no claims to be a mystic or a fakir.

He is, he says, "Just an ordinary person like you or me."

However, he has learned to control and use

the magic powers of his subconscious mind through meditation

so that he only requires two hours sleep per night.

He eats only three full meals per week,

yet he is just an ordinary man as you or I.

Mr. Schwarz claims that he makes no use

of self-hypnosis in controlling his body,

but relies more on a positive method of concentration

which might be referred to as a mental local anesthetic.

The principal device for his experiments

is a bed of nails.

This bed of nails contains only 17 very rusty nails.

The traditional bed of nails of the Indian fakir

numbers between 40 and 80 nails.

The fewer the nails, the deeper they penetrate the flesh.

In addition, these nails are in no way sterilized.

And for those who are skeptical of the slow exertion

of 242 pounds on Mr. Schwarz's stomach,

we offered a 50 pound boulder

which will be struck with a Sledgehammer,

creating an instantaneous impact reaction

equal to 750 pounds.

A close examination by doctors confirms

that a complete penetration of the flesh has been achieved,

yet no blood has been drawn and the wounds themselves

will be totally healed within a half hour.

How does he do it?

By directing his mind, he says, "in a spirit of meditation

to the affirmative emotions of life."

However, for those of you who remain skeptical,

Mr. Schwarz shall now run a carpet needle

into the side of his face.

Once again, sterilization of the implement

is not considered, even to the point

of rubbing it into the carpeting.

Those of you who have queasy stomachs

may wish to avert your eyes at this moment.

Mr. Schwarz believes each of us is divine,

each of us is our own God.

By meditating on the beauty and love

of our own being, we cleanse ourselves

of the negative emotions that induce fear,

despair, and disease.

Finally, he prepares to drive the second needle

through his forearm.

A member of the press is invited to spit on it.

This is indeed an unsterilized instrument.

For those who would attempt this feat,

remember you must first learn the art of meditation.

For only by mastering your own mind

can you hope to gain mastery of your body.

Then perhaps you, too, can sleep only two hours a night,

eat only three full meals a week,

and stick pins in your cheeks.

Where, in all this marvelous, amazing world,

can we find life more bizarre than in your own front yard?

60 years ago this was the small, sleepy Western town

of El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora de los Angeles.

Today it is the sprawling megalopolis of Los Angeles,

the largest city in the Western Hemisphere.

Nowhere in the world are there more automobiles.

Nowhere has growth been more continuous,

has the urban sprawl been more persistent,

have the wide open spaces been more completely devoured

by the unending influx of outsiders

migrating here for the good life.

50 years ago these houses would be standing on vacant land,

interspersed with vast groves of orange trees.

Today, the motorcar dominates life in Southern California.

This is Sunset Boulevard,

legendary street of dreams and myths.

Young people from all over the world are drawn here

by the glamour of the film industry, for this is Hollywood,

now just a small section of Los Angeles.

Here are the fabled clubs and watering places

of the celebrated.

Nearby are the apartment houses and homes

for those who work in Hollywood.

Ah, some of them at least find time

to take a bit of the sun, when the smog will permit.

It is here in this great Los Angeles Basin

that we find the elusive search for love and fulfillment

taking forms never dreamed of by Michelangelo,

Shakespeare, or Dante.

This is Main Street, only eight blocks from City Hall.

Our camera is concealed in a bakery truck.

We are watching two homosexual male prostitutes

waiting for the first contact of the evening.

Soliciting is against the law here.

One has to be cautious in selecting

a companion for the evening.

Enlargements of still photographs taken at this time

indicate that the driver of the car is a male.

Careful.

Make certain that you aren't being watched.

Ah well, perhaps next time.

La Cienega Boulevard in Beverly Hills

might well be considered the Greenwich Village

of the West.

On this street one may find a painting to suit every mood,

to fulfill all desires, and to fit every pocketbook.

Sir Julian Huxley once said that the role

of the artist "is to provide variety to our lives,

thus our lives are enriched and ennobled."

Los Angeles has become the cultural center of the West.

These paintings present a traditional approach

to the artist's creative vision.

Prices for these paintings range from $100 to about $1,000.

Almost directly across the street we find the works

of modern artist Ellsworth Kelly.

This painting is priced at $5,000

and is cleverly entitled Red and Blue.

This work is priced at $6,000.

It is entitled Red, Green, and Blue.

The creative experience takes many forms.

This theater houses another collection

of the West's cultural heritage.

''Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah...

Art reflects life and life imitates art.

These paintings belong in the collection

of one very wealthy theater owner.

They represent his concept of genuine creative expression.

But what of the artists themselves, the creators of beauty,

the providers of variety?

What are they doing?

This 60-foot tower was created by sculptor Mark di Suvero

of New York in protest against America's involvement

in the unpleasantness in Vietnam.

A committee of artists contacted painters

all over the world to participate in this protest.

Over one million dollars worth of paintings

created by 200 internationally famous artists

adorn the exhibit and give voice to their indignation.

Dedication ceremonies heard veterans of the Vietnam War

add their voices to those of the artists.

''Protest

''Whoa it's the thing to do

''There must be somethin' buggin' you

''Protest

''We gonna start today

''So get out your signs, form the picket lines

''And lead the way

''We're gonna save the world

''We're gonna save the world

''Have you thought at all about the bomb this week

''Did you talk to the mountain

''Did you smile at the queen

''In Vietnam and all the blood that's spilled there

''Stay in school, babe

''You might get killed there

''And protest

''Whoa it's the thing to do

''There must be

''Somethin' buggin' you

''Protest

''Use a big word or two

''Contemplation, indignation, and frustration, too

''We're gonna save the world

''We're gonna save the world, babe''

But there were other voices, too.

Counter pickets stage a protest against the protest.

The Young Americans For Freedom vigorously support

the government's position in Vietnam.

The signs they carry represent no artistic endeavors,

and at present market prices are totally valueless,

but the messages they contain are most assuredly

definite statements of their beliefs.

Grab that fly

This in turn inspires a counter protest

against their protest of the artists' protest.

Right there.

If this seems confusing, try to bear with us,

for after all this is part of the variety

that the artist contributes to our lives.

Wait, sir.

Wait, sir.

Oh, I give up.

An old Oriental proverb says

the more life changes the more it remains the same.

The tower is gone.

The arguments have been hot and impassioned.

On this day in Vietnam 37 Americans lost their lives

while here only a small echo of protest could be heard.

''Protest

''Oh it's the thing to do

''There must be somethin' buggin' you

''Protest

''We're gonna start today

''So get out the signs, form the picket lines

''And lead the way

''We're gonna save the world

''We're gonna save the world

Art in Los Angeles is by no means

restricted to the professional.

This art class is at this moment

attended solely by housewives,

most of whom are aged over 40.

It is not however a prerequisite that you be a housewife

to enjoy the advantages of this particular class,

or for that matter that you be over the age of 40.

It is only necessary that you apply yourself

to the full development of individual artistic expression.

This is Vito, a sculptor, painter, poet, dancer,

and photographer, truly a Renaissance man.

His approach to the arts is joyously creative

and spontaneous.

My name is Vito and I'm a sculptor

and the figure that you see here is a glass construction

entitled Bending Dancer.

I cut out photographs of girls and paste them

on pieces of glass, then I glue the pieces together

onto the figure, which is two-thirds life size.

I also do more conventional kinds of sculpture.

This is my protest against prejudice

and intolerance in the world.

I believe that we should love one another rather than hate.

I believe in peace rather than war.

I try to put that into my work.

Now, I'd consider myself as a deviant from the norm.

The word deviant is considered an unhealthy word

in our culture, but without the so called deviant, man

long would have perished, because the deviant

is the one who brings an element of beauty,

an element of aesthetics into the world,

and without beauty it's pointless for man to exist.

I'm interested in adding some

Element of design to my general attitude in life.

Otherwise it's a bore and mundane

and I'm not particularly interested in it.

Many people think that I'm some kind of a nut,

but I don't care just as long as they buy my sculpture.

The sprawling megalopolis of Los Angeles

offers a variety of hedonistic experience.

This is Balboa, a playground for millionaires

and just everyday folks like you and me.

Once a year a strange mating right takes place

on these seemingly innocent shores.

For just as the seals return annually

to the Bering Straits and the swallows return

to Capistrano, so do tens of thousands of young teenagers

converge on Balboa at Easter time

to indulge their youthful energies

in drinking, dancing, flirting, and well,

just about everything else.

Here beyond the watchful eyes of parents

and school authorities they learn the facts of life

in their first awkward gropings towards maturity.

The small police force is reinforced to many times

its normal compliment.

State Highway troopers and officers from communities

all over California help to at least control,

if not subdue, the youthful vigor of the teenagers.

Every vehicle is pressed into the service of the police,

including even the dog Catcher's truck.

Road blocks are set up at major approaches

and suspicious looking vehicles are searched

for alcohol or drugs.

Hundreds are arrested, the charges ranging

from drunkenness to indecent exposure.

In order to better understand this modern mating ritual

we interviewed some of the participants.

- Where'd you come from?

Las Vegas, Nevada.

- Did you drive down in your own car?

Yes, I did.

Where are you living while you're here?

We have a room, motel room.

- How many of you share the room?

14.

14!

- Have you had any parties since you've been here?

Every night.

When are you going home?

When the money runs out.

How much do you pay for this hotel room?

About 70 cents apiece, 85 cents apiece.

How old are you?

How old am I? 18.

Has anybody been down here the whole week?

- Oh, I have.

I'm down here every day every year.

I have.

Say the cops haven't gotten you yet?

Not yet, no not yet.

Do you expect the cops?

Yes, I do.

- She's been picked at before. - Why?

Because I always expect them to get me.

I got a ticket the other day.

What for?

For riding in the back of a Jeep,

hanging out the end. - Yeah, we had

to pay for this guy's ticket.

Do the police

give you much trouble, generally?

Yes, I hate 'em.

What do they give you trouble about?

They yell at you for walkin' down the street

the wrong way.

I know, I hate 'em.

They're no good. - Like, you're doin'

anything and you get in trouble.

Here are my knobbies.

Where, let me see.

All right, wanna see my knobbies?

Calcium deposits, you see.

I'm not going in the Army for them.

Why, because you can't wear boots, right?

Better than bein' a conscientious objector.

Now, what are you doing for a living?

I don't do anything.

Well how do you exist?

Oh, we go down to the beach there

and clam dig Saturdays and just take it over to the market,

they give ya steaks for it.

And what about a place to live?

How do you exist?

Well, there's a number of guys

go together on one place and it doesn't cost that much.

Can you?

What does it cost you?

About $4 a week.

Do ya stay down here any nights?

Yeah.

Where do ya stay when ya stay here?

The beach.

You sleep on the beach?

Yeah.

That sounds great.

Yeah, it's fun.

Do the police give you any trouble?

No, they don't bother me 'cause I don't let 'em.

Well how do you not let them?

Because if they talk to me

I just plug my ears and say, "Don't talk to me."

And then they just leave you alone

from that point, is that right?

Yeah, because they think I'm nice.

Last night, the cops are always buggin' guys.

Why is that?

I don't know why, man.

They don't respect the guys.

All the kids respect the cops, but the cops

don't respect the kids down there.

There's two cops here and two cops there

and all over, man.

What do you wanna do for a living?

I don't know.

How old are ya?

18.

What do you do for excitement?

Surf, usually sit down here

and play my guitar.

Where do you go to school?

Phoenix, Arizona.

Did you come out here

just for the Easter week?

Yes.

Can be kind of a drag.

I'm glad I'm goin' home.

Phoenix is better.

Well, no.

Think I'm goin' to New York next time I go on a vacation.

Watch out, New York, you may be next.

Man's endless search for fulfillment takes many forms,

but nowhere is it more bizarre than in Europe's

most highly industrialized nation, Germany.

Here in the busy seaport city of Hamburg

citizens gather to watch a play about the sick world

of the days of Hitler entitled Heil Deutschland.

This actress portrays a Jewish girl

who has apparently been hiding in this attic for months.

Baby

Baby

Written by a former Nazi playwright,

Karl Hofstede, this play has been running

for 14 years to capacity audiences.

Under the guise of exposing the evils of the Nazi era,

this blatantly anti-Semitic drama

even offers recordings of Hitler's voice

and songs of the dreaded Nazi SS stormtroopers

during the performance.

What forbidden emotions lurk in the hearts

of this audience as they relive the sick days of Hitler?

What dark forces lie brooding within,

waiting for the opportunity to once again

burst forth on the world?

Perhaps this play will give us a hint.

But lest we become too involved in horrors of the past,

let us now appraise the bizarre of the here and now.

Our quest next takes us to distant Lebanon,

bordering on the blue Mediterranean.

Let us hear from Mr. George Fillmore,

a member of the Arabian expedition team

via transatlantic telephone.

We picked up this Arab who was to guide us

to the slave trading area and drove all night,

about 119 kilometers out of Beirut.

It's wild country, no roads to speak of,

no maps or telephones, nothing,

and we only had this Arab's word to go by.

We were a little strung up about the situation

because Muslim law is very strict.

They shoot slave traders on the spot,

and of course they consider us infidels.

This Arab, his name was Fuad, he showed us the place

to set up our cameras.

It's way up in the side of the mountain,

very steep, and he also pointed out to us

the spot that the slave auction

was supposed to take place in.

He showed us where to unload our equipment

and of course we had little choice but to follow him.

We unloaded the equipment very fast.

The sooner we got it out of the van,

the safer it was for us.

There was an awful lot of it, not just camera gear,

but sound recording stuff, cables.

Well, we had a lot of hauling to do

and there was a few heavy things like the big pulley rope

to get it up the mountain.

After that we drove the empty van out of there

and around the other side of the ridge

where it would be out of sight but still handy

just in case we had to scamper over the ridge

to get out of there.

Now that I think of it, it wouldn't have been much use.

It would've probably been a rotten carve up.

Fuad helped us lash up the equipment securely to the sled.

We had brought the bare minimum,

but it still seemed like a ton.

We tied on a few extra ropes just in case,

and in the meantime the van was being hidden

just over the other side of the ridge.

We needed a volunteer to go up the mountain

and I was the lucky one who was selected.

It was fairly easy at the beginning

but I soon found out that we were gonna have a problem

because it was all loose gravel up there.

And you know you take two steps up and one step back.

It was actually easier going up on all fours.

It was very frustrating and I seemed to be making

no progress at all.

However, I knew the clock was ticking

and we just had to get on with it.

I think we were all getting nervous now

because we still hadn't got the stuff up the hill yet.

I fastened the rope around the tree

and I started back down.

It was very loose and slippery on that hill

and that's when I lost my balance.

I thought me number's up, but as it turned out

I'd just winded me self and I got

a bit of a scrape on the leg.

A few moments later I was back at it,

pulling on the rope to get that equipment up the hill.

Time was against us.

We set up the camouflage net first.

We had a definite plan to follow and we more or less

followed that right to the letter.

We had three cameras, one was a spare,

and we used that just to photograph ourselves

settin' up the equipment.

One camera had a 1,000 millimeter lens

that was so powerful you could almost pick up

the hairs on a flea's back legs at about a mile and a half.

We got it set up while Fuad stood watch

and kept his eyes skinned.

We'd also gotten hold

of a Morrison Senior teledynamic microphone.

We got it from the military.

It's got a tremendous range.

You can focus it into an area

up to two and a half kilometers away.

It'll pick up the sounds and bring 'em back.

It's really unbelievable.

After quite a lot of work we got all set up

and ready to go, and then it was my job

to cross the ridge, find me self a look over there

and act as lookout.

The country is rough, very, very barren

and dry actually, very dry,

and it's just crazy to be out there.

I was in a position to see 'em coming

and as soon as I saw the first truck

at about 1:30 in the afternoon,

I waved and then I ducked down and I kept outta sight.

Due to atmospheric conditions,

we were unable to pick up all the sounds

with the teledynamic microphone.

The great distance from the source

caused the sound to be somewhat delayed.

This limousine suggests that this will be

no ordinary slave auction, for this is royalty.

However, discretion compels that we obscure

the license plate lest we offend a friendly country

and precipitate an international incident.

Slave trading in this area is one of those

great open secrets that no one talks about.

It has been estimated that more

than three million Lebanese pounds are spent annually

for the purchase of human flesh.

That is about one million American dollars.

Unlike the slave trade in America in the 18003,

these slaves are not intended for manual labor.

Rather, they will probably find their way

into the brothels of the Middle East

where they will provide the physical incarnation of love.

It is true that the human body is,

in Michelangelo's words, the form divine.

However, such is the atmosphere of prudity and repression

in our country that we can not reveal

this scene as our cameras saw it.

Many hours of painfully slow labor have been expended

to obscure the offensive parts

from the view of the prurient minded.

This poor creature was sold for 4,000 pounds,

about 1,750 American dollars,

or for less than a good used car.

It is not lust or desire that inspires the enthusiasm

of these eager buyers.

The motive is greed, for in these parts of the world

a blonde is one of the most secure investments.

These traders pool their resources into a buying syndicate

in order to compete with the wealthier traders.

This pathetic creature will probably

become the centerpiece of some brothel,

the star attraction so to speak.

Even the guard was moved to leave his post

in order to capture a closer glimpse of the blond.

We shall run that again as photographed

with the 1,000 millimeter lens in order

to recapture the drama of the moment.

Lest there be those who will be offended,

let it not be forgotten that in this area

many things are regarded as normal

that you and I might think of as perversions.

This handsome youth may well end up in a palace,

enjoying all the privileges and perquisites of royalty,

for as long as he remains youthful and willing.

To the worm in the cheese, the cheese is the universe.

And to you, dear friend, what of your universe?

Is your own world not just as bizarre

as these we have been visiting?

Do you now know what is behind the beyond?

For that matter,

do you even know what is behind

the behind?

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