more wishful thingking

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this first appeared back in february of 08. i’d forgotten i’d written it. though with yet another election looming soon over the approaching horizon it seems like a good idea to do a summer re-run.  it’s been ten years since i wrote this and we’re not any closer to it happening than we were 10 plus years ago. a sad thing.


lots of wishful thinking on my part over the years on lots of different stuff. anything from the chance meeting of say, heidi klum, where we immediately fall into to bed and live happily ever after. or perhaps, the twice weekly i’m going to be the next california super lottery winner. wishful thinking. i think the odds on either of those things happening are probably both in the same ballpark. a ballpark with very long odds and over 400 feet down each line to the foul pole.

i’m not the first person to wishful think either of the two i mentioned. not by a long shot. male or female. for either. yeah, heidi’s that hot. drifting here. no, it’s the political season of the witch, no, not necessarily, lady machill. it’s just this season of endless political weirdness that over the years has become just annoying and nauseating and finally culminating with my withdrawing from all elections. my official absentee ballot usually ends up in the shredder.

i have some wishful thinking that might drag me back into the fray. the problem being is that’s just what it is because the humps in charge of both major parties and probably the fringe groups as well, wouldn’t like it. oh, maybe some of the fringe guys might but the big sex and money boys and girls would probably have a collective massive coronary if it came to pass. which might not be a bad idea. then we could just start over from scratch. more drifting. perhaps.

i’m not the only person to come up with this wishful thought as it’s been tossed around every now and again over the years but it never goes anywhere. sadly. big money wants nothing to do with it. i think it scares them. good. they scare me. daily.

i think the time has come to scare the bejesus out of them for a change. this sad slate of presidential candidates would seem like the perfect time for my wishful thought to maybe make it past the blossom stage and give fruition to something that should have happened years ago.

oh, i’m sure all the candidates are probably sorta nice folks. i mean maybe you could probably invite them all over to the house for some grub, massive amounts of dago red, and mah jong. though they would all have to promise no politics. the only problem is they all, would at some point, renege and start campaigning. worse yet, while working the room glad handing anyone in sight, they would be spilling heirloom cabernet all over the living room furniture and in general just being boorish dinner guests. the whole sad deal would probably end up being worse than letting the local canvassing scientology crew in for a chat and a brew. god, the horror. i don’t know if they do that but just the thought of it scares me on lots of levels.

the point of this madness? for those of you that have stuck it out here it is…none of the above. yep. that’s it. none of the above needs to be added to every ballot in the country. it’s time is way the hell over due. it’s simple in it’s purity and gives those of us something to vote for other than the ever ubiquitous ‘lesser of two evils’. cause that’s what it generally comes down to in any election. in particular a presidential election. regardless who is running. or statewide elections.  or city countywide elections for any matter.

sadly, it’s not going to happen. although i think it needs to be brought up and hammered home to our elected elitist that they serve us and not their pocketbook or summer home where ever the hell it is. it’s time we that have made ourselves the disenfranchised get our vote back. sure we quit voting on our own accord. however, they were the ones that pissed us off so much we just up and said, fuck this, i ain’t voting anymore every again for any of you witless bunch of money grubbing oily sanctimonious swine.

problem is they have all forgotten just who the hell it is they serve. they all think they are there just to serve themselves up their own personal money tree. yes, they are the folks that actually have that tree. the tree that your dad asked your mom if she thought money grew on trees tree. well, it does exist. you just have to get elected to any public office in the land. it also comes with the keys to the new tony soprano model caddy escalade AND your very own 23 year old smokin’ hot mistress. boy, howdy. makes a man want to run for office, don’t it?

imagine the chagrin some november after the votes have been tallied and candidate A gets 12%. candidate B gets 12%. the fringe guys and gals get their usual 1% and lo and behold, none of the above, wins with a whopping 75%. you snicker. though it could happen. no, by god, it should happen. it’s time we the fed up disenfranchised take our vote back. take our vote back and vote for none of the above in any damn election we feel like. we need to badger our elected swine into letting us vote for none of the above. why not? what’s the problem with that? why is it just wishful thinking?

what? what the hell? who the fuck are you anyway? why no way, sonny boy, we can’t do that. why that would be un-american. say, just what kind of commie pinko nazi muslim are you any the ways? by all that’s holy, you gotta be one of em or all of em for even suggesting such a vile idea. why, why, i think i’ll let my bodyguards shoot you for bringing that sick deviant idea up in my very own official officially sanctioned official office. ed, jack. take this commie nazi muslim scum out back and do what needs to be done.

so like here’s the deal. call your congressperson and senator. be polite. ya hear? yeah, well, hopefully they have no clue you don’t vote. then tell whoever answers the phone we need the none of the above clause added to All ballots in this once great nation. simple easy. sure they will laugh and hang up. come on, the caddy and smokin’ hot mistress need a good hot wax. so call again. give them the same rap. if enough of you supposed americans do this. we will get the none of the above clause on all ballots across america for every election. it’s time has come.


box cars and snake eyes

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pretty much every morning the first thing he did upon dragging his ass out of bed was to grab a beer out of the fridge.  he’d drink several swallows at the kitchen sink and stand there for a bit just to see if it was going to come back up along with last nights tacos and whatever he’d washed them down with.  most mornings things stayed where they belonged and he’d make his way back down the hall to take a leak.
it was sunday morning and his usual day at the pool hall/country store just a few houses to the north of his.  he’d spent nearly every sunday there for the past 7 or 8 years.  7 or 8 years since his emma had passed.  he still ached for her but knew in his heart it wasn’t helping much.  though the day shooting pool and drinking brews and shooters of patron seemed to help a bit.
sundays also meant making some cash off the other locals while he drank, told stories, and beat them all rather handily.  for some reason or another they never seemed to mind losing to him at pool.  sure he was pretty good but maybe his stories were better and the money was just their way of unconsciously paying him for the day’s entertainment.  whatever, he didn’t care. 
more beer and a few old hard boiled eggs with some grits were his breakfast.  he always had grits, usually made up with pepper, butter, and grated parmesan cheese.  an old italian guy he’d met on a freight long ago had told him how to do it.   he’d tried it and came to like it. 
after he washed up a bit he lit a joint and smoked it while reading the morning paper.  nothing in the paper worth reading but you never knew when you’d find something of interest is what he always said.  sports scores and their related bullshit were generally the most interesting things he came across.
though this morning, a story about something going on in the next county caught his eye.  something about cops and national guard or something being called out to put and end some damn thing or another.  already too drunk and stoned to focus on anything resembling hard news he tossed the paper aside and put on his sandals.  time to hit the pool hall.
the slim patron bottle fit nicely in his back pocket.  unobtrusive as well.  he’d buy beer with his winnings.  he left and didn’t bother to lock the door.  he never did.  deep down in some sad place he always hoped his emma would return to him.  why make it hard for her?
the day was clear and almost warm.  the sugar magnolias were beginning to show signs of flowers.  life was almost alright.  making a c note or so playing pool would make it righter.  he stepped into the country store/pool hall to find the usual sunday crowd.  yeah, at least a c note this day for sure.
the patron was gone.  a six pack or so of beer chasers as well.  the $125 folded up and stuck in a front pocket.  he was feeling good and feeling no pain,  hell, maybe he’d even eat dinner before passing out on the couch.  saying his good-byes he stepped outside.  something crackled in the not so distance and for some reason it sounded familiar.  familiar in that long ago familiar.  a bit staccato.  what was it? 
he let the feeling go and hit the gravel lot and turned south to his home.  he heard boots on gravel behind him.  did he forget something and a friend was bringing it to him?  he heard the metal on metal sound of a rifle bolt.  no mistaking that sound.  drunk.  stoned.  or sober.  he turned to the sound.  the butt of the AK-47 hit him squarely between the eyes knocking him into the ditch beside the road.  he heard the first of the three shots.  it was the last thing he ever heard.  although after it happened he thought he heard his emma calling to him.

a little bit of roadtrip madness

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yes, boys and girls, it’s almost that time again.  time for another fear and loathing road trip up into the true heart of darkness.  it begins very soon.  a nine or ten day trip to the central valley and the insanity that awaits.  lurking like some fiend from the bowels of hell.  i say, bring it.  it’s time to rock ‘n’ roll, once again.  the addled oldsters banging back old tom barleycorn, vino vertas, plus beer for breakfast and lunch like there’s no tomorrow.  and perhaps there isn’t.
three nights of supreme depravity and debauchery steep like a sleeping succubus while the cabin in the sierra foothills sits getting even colder as more snow silently falls.  great mounds of the white stuff sit and wait to be used as a refrigerator for the beer, white wine, and vodka.  sweet, jesus, life is good.

the imagination races and roils at the thought.  let the weekend begin.  let madness reign.  rock ‘n’ roll.


fond memories(?)

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i’ve had these photos for a while now.  probably since this summer and one crazed hot day or evening in the time before the brown eyed girl and i became an item.  i was going to use them in a blog about nam but that particular one isn’t getting off the ground just yet.  there are a couple of other photos as well.  i liked them and wanted to stick them in a blog. 

this morning my friend, dfr, sent me a couple of photos as he is want to do.  he also included a poem this morning.  a poem by charles bukowski.  i decided to use the bukowski poem and add the photos as a sorta pictograph. 

believe it or not i think there’s a point to the blog. i hope you enjoy it.

 cosmic dancing shiva
when you’re young
a pair
of female
high-heeled shoes
just sitting
in the closet
can fire
your bones;
when you’re old
it’s just
a pair of shoes
in them
and just
as well.
charles bukowski