The Toxic Titties at Bricktops in July 2005 delivered their Mamaist Manifesto. Scroll down past the photos for the text of the Manifesto.
The Mamaist Manifesto:
1. We want to shout the pursuit of pleasure, the glory of euphoric stroking.
2. The essential elements of our movement will be fearlessness, audacity and revolution.
3. The Art World, up to now, has magnified cancerous apathetic immobility and bourgeois decadent pomposity. We want to exalt actions of feverish creation, the shredding of moralistic tyranny, the perilous leap, the slap and the blow and the fist. Followed by Fisting.
4. We reject the myopic petty greed of the establishment, engorged with its own power and appetite, devouring the dissidents, the radicals, and feeding on the blood of artists.
5. We declare that the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: The beauty of variance: A delicate scar across the chest from the removed breast, the darkened stain of the groin suspended in spandex, soaked in sweat. Exertion emphasized: Puddles on the Dance floor, on the street, and in open mouths. This liquid, this jizem as an expression is more beautiful than any glossy preened prediction of what our desire is supposed to be: Manicured, unquestioning, uncritical and compliant.
6. Magnificence exists only in struggle! There is no masterpiece that has not an aggressive character. Art must be a violent assault on the forces of fascist hegemony. Force them to kneel before Mama!
7. We are on the extreme promontory of the centuries! What is the use of looking to the cannon at the very moment when we must thrust open the doors of radical transformation? This suburban puritanical reality is an illusion, all the despair and decay spreading beneath the surface like a plague. Reject it! Tear away. Free yourselves and your comrades from these repressive constraints.
8. Oh Mama! We will glorify action - the only cure for the world. We will fight constricting morality, paternalism and all insipid opportunist and utilitarian cowardice!
9. And oh yes! We will demolish that art that hangs above the designer furniture in the estates of the ruling class. Oh wretched luxury commodity! Oh vapid insidious object, pandering, groveling, despicable!
10. We will sing of the great crowds who reject the dribble running through their television monitors, who instead embrace pleasure and revolt; the multi-colored polyphonic surf of revolutions in modern capitals: the un-recorded vibration of the outraged multitude, banging their fists against the impenetrable fortresses that distribute mass media lies. We will expose the gluttonous art institutions as they devour their color field paintings. We will speak of artists setting fire to established models of production, animating questions of subjectivity, thrusting off the bondage of commodification. Creation is a revolutionary act! The constraints of representation will be suspended from the clouds by the ephemeral threads of their smoke.
11. Oh Yes! We will form Collaborative bridges with the leap of gymnasts. All together now! We fling ourselves forward. A non-hierarchical working dynamic invested in process and experimentation, both conceptual and formal, across the diabolic rivers of ego and authorship: our great muscled chests, punching the bag of the banal like enormous steel boxers, gloved with untamable desire, and the gliding distance under our feet propelled by a heart that sounds like the flapping of a new flag and the applause of enthusiastic crowds!
12. All together now! We are the Mamaists: a force of pleasure, dissent, determination and will! Individuals, united in purpose, exposing and dismantling systems of authority and control. Join us or move aside, but do not stand in our way!
13. When you cast off the shackles of loathsome heteronormativity, your world, torn asunder, will be open for you, ripe and quivering. Taste the flavor of autonomy as it drips down your chin. Now is the moment to act. Mamas! We dare you; we challenge you! Place your hot palm on the buttocks of the mama next to you. Do it now! Note the sensation: the balance of muscle and softness. As your fingers probe you are slick and feverish with barely restrained desire. Taste now each otheršs mouths and spread the word. Feel the flesh and the breath that heats your skin. Every hair on your body stands at attention. Attention! Taste, Smell, Lick, Swell, Fingers Grasping, Blood Pounding. Never doubt: To fuck is a revolutionary act!