The magazine, The Realist, made its name ten years ago (didn't know it was going that long did you?) as a scurrilous irreverent underground rag. In its latest issue though, Paul Krassner, the organization's guiding light, has turned to the more elevated purpose of spreading the hippies good word. The diggers, that nimble group of modern-day saints, were allowed to share their thing with those outside--40,000 copies worth.

The tone of the issue thus is more somber than usual but it is laced with flashes of the most exalted wit, tender and crafty outbursts from the blue depths of the underground sea that these people inhabit. The prose-poetic style is the one we have come to expect of all hippie writing. Only, here it is better than usual--controlled wild lurching from fancy to dirt, with logic running like a deep undercurrent, that occasionally surfaces but more often is just stubbornly felt.

The theme is one of rejection of the life that has been arranged for them--and it is clear that in this the hippies' actions speak louder than their words--and a defiant optimism about their chances in the task of shifting everybody else's allegiances too.

So surely I hunt the white-man down in my heart.

The crew-cutted Seattle boy

The Portland boy who worked for U.P. that was me

I won't let him live.

To bring back America, the grass and the streams,

To trample your throat in your dreams

This magic I work, this loving I give

That my children may flourish

And yours won't live.

This resurrection in America is to come about under the irresistable force of the example of the new breed whose revolutionary value system is judged so inherently attractive (it is) that it will subvert traditional morality.

Thus there is great emphasis in the first article entitled "Trip without a ticket' (all of them are unsigned) on the importance of demonstrations of the hippie life style. The diggers' term for themselves is life-actors and their means of communication is Guerilla Theater which "intends to bring audiences to liberated territory to create life-actors.", and whose plays "are glass-cutters for empire windows".

In particular, acting out Theater means, say, establishing free stores where everything belongs to everybody or nobody. "A store or goods or clinic or restaurant that is free becomes a social art form." Behind this heady jargon is the undeniable enchantment of a description of a free store,