John Corn

From Plastic Tub

American. Born circa March 23, 1943, in North Miami Beach. Died May 13, 2001. He receives his invitation, loses it, shows up quite by accident. Is this number 27, then? He receives a bong manufactured from Vietnamese femur bones. He is a capillary vein bulging from a hay-wire.

The Cannery of Souls

Johnathan Eniad Corn was born in St. Petersburg, Florida, sometime in the early 1940s, and though the exact date is not known, he celebrated March 23, 1943, as his birthday. His family fled Soviet Georgia for political reasons and successfully received asylum first in England, then in the U.S., finally settling in Florida. John's mother, Lizabeta Kornakovitch, had been a classically trained opera singer until throat cancer cut her career short--America, it seemed, had little use for a grousy-voiced maiden with a foul temper. Thus, her career in ruins, she turned to drink. Young John's earliest memories were largely those of strife and violent libation, as below recounted to the British Punk Rock magazine Quid, in 1984:

"My mom would hit on me for hours -- almost without resting. She'd bruise her knuckles on my skull and she'd start in on with a belt, or whatever. She threw a cigarette lighter into my eye. I wore a patch for three months. I still have problems with my eye. But the worst thing wasn't my mom -- and she was an incredible bitch--it was my Dad. He'd sit and watch this go down, just sit and cry. And the way he did it, his whole body wriggling, like a machine caught between gears. I didn't stick around for long. You're beat every day and you learn how to survive real quick. I wasn't exactly getting bologna sandwiches in a little brown bag, you know? So after my old man killed my mom, I took off--I guess you could say I've been taking off ever since. Still am."

Second Coming

Now a solid member of the so-called Lost Generation, Corn set out in the world with little more than a bad attitude and love for music, drugs and women. Captivated by the burgeoning Beat movement, he set off to California after a miserable stint as a dope peddler in Tampa. He hitchhiked to San Francisco and made a living by busking on the streets. He was a passable guitarist and harmonica player and he often accompanied some of the minor Beat poets at their readings. Over the next few years he hitchhiked his way up and down the Golden State doing odd jobs and drinking heavily. As the hippie culture blossomed, he fell right in with it, blowing his mind on LSD and marijuana, shallow mysticism and anti-establishment gestures. He was arrested in 1969, for example, for pissing on a police horse's leg.

Upon his release, Corn only stayed in California for a brief while, before finding himself first in Taos, then in Boulder and finally all the way back to the Tampa Bay Area. In 1980 he acquired funds from a settlement resulting from a traffic accident which left him with a severe limp. He used the money to set up a small recording studio which catered mostly to the burgeoning underground metal scene, but there were also the occasional New Age flute players and lounge acts.

A Package in the Hall

Corn became something of a fixture on the local scene. Generous yet cranky, exasperatingly unprofessional, he still managed to stay afloat. In the most respectful words of a stoned teenaged partier, "Corn's uh, a, a whizzing relic, yeah? A mysterious amalgam of rock, ice, and dust, see? He's like an f'in' whacha call it? Shooting star, right? Like Haley's Comet." He is known within AA circles due to the foundation of the Alpha Chimp and Beta Chimp labels in 1996 and 1997 respectively. These labels focused on musical acts of Associationalist character, as well as on propaganda and speeches. He was never really a part of it but he found it "freaky enough to be enjoyable." As he told an interviewer shortly before his death, "Those guys were a trip, man."

The End of the Day

Corn died of pancreatic cancer on May 13, 2001. He was buried at sea in the Gulf of Mexico and soon afterwards his studio was mysteriously burned to the ground.

Known Works

Edicts, collection of essays, napkin scribbles and "life's marginalia."

Non-Canonical Text

"The elder Corn, Jethro, finally killed his wife Lizabeta after a three-day bender and was sent away to the infamous Raiford State Penitentiary."


Young John was terrified for years of rounded, smooth objects.

Corn was in fact very fond of corn in all its varieties, but he especially loved it creamed, on the cob, or popped.