jpaulgorman

   While Texico thrived, Americans lined up for quarterly income rations from their Hand Out Centers.  Eventually, these payments required a signed Declaration Of Conformity.  They had given up on liberty, the world was too scary.  They wanted protection from boogie people, from boogie thoughts, from boogie bugs, from boogie rays.  In 2037, it became illegal for any American to expose their own skin to the deadly sun.  It was for their own good.  Human driving was banned, eating more than 1000 calories a day was a crime, and musical volume could not exceed government mandated decibel standards. Texicans  were more fond of the sun, their ozone layer was enhanced by sky vapor technology that directed the harmful rays back into space.  From there, nuclear nodes collected the reflection energy and turned it into clean electricity.  Also in  Texico , it was fine for a citizen to drive themselves to a restaurant, order whatever they ...

  Everybody wakes at the same times in this town, when the trains are railing through.  Gingerbread people with holiday welcomes to the conductors and well wishes to the cabooses.  Ghost of Sonny Rhodes working those lap steel strings, burning up Blazers Bar and Grill.  Drinking wine out of a coffee cup, the blues lifted temporarily by scales and fermented grapes.   Dreariness thrives in the thirsty silence, when the neon is gone.

One sentence is all.  Comfortable allocations should be regularly rebalanced with diversified investments.  Peace of mind and discipline.  The rest is for the fix, and the robots will win in the end.  Horses and prize fighters are too unpredictable. The pilling being done for this constellation of symptoms, rendering so many incapacitated or worse.  Take it easy, walk, bike, roll, notice.  Mark Twain said he could exist 2 weeks on a good compliment.  Note the eyebrows if you need a place to start.  Try it. Scene manipulation, all day, every day.  The rooms are all different.  Go further.  Venture out.  Tunes.

To make a good Texican Chili, start with the meat selection.  Prime rib roast is best, but more importantly, it's critical to get it ground correctly.  Ask the butcher for the chili meat cut and get 3 pounds.  It will be lean so that will make quite a bit.  Enough for six to eight.  Mainly with chili, it's about the spices you don't use.  Many will dazzle you with concoctions of ridiculous proportions.  Spices of unknown origin.  Weirdly, usually leaving out the peppers.  Here's the deal, all you need is a bunch of chili power and cumin, perhaps combining whole seeds and cumin powder, in a 2/1 ratio.  You then have the basis of chili.  Salt and pepper at the very end.  I've eaten horrible chili before.  Chili with Kahlua, chili with chocolate, white chili.  Left many full bowls of chili on the table due to violations of personal edible standards.   Creativity comes next.  Tomato sauce and dice...

  Next year will be dashing too, the early resolutions will be supercharged.  Many ready to move on, like another number makes any difference.  Wake up and live this day.  God willing.  20, 21, whatever it takes. Off the beat for now, these 20/20 eyes going back to fuzzy.  Back to haze, a return to other gonzo obsessions, to other forms of madness, other absurdities.  Keep those Publicans and Democommies at a distance.  They stink.  They're oily. Created through form, 100 chapters, 300 paragraphs, 1500 sentences.  Filled with wild content, observations as seen, heard, experienced, and understood.  Seasoned with implications, insinuations, and invitations.  Gave it to you plain.  Plain as possible.

Everybody gets to eat.  Pick up your knives and forks, it's pork chops with marmalade jelly, it's the pump and dump, the bribes, the winks, the rain, the greedy green grub rub.  Toothpicks are in abundance, make sure those pearly whites look good for the show, no spinach debris, dig the gums with intent.  Of course, the quiet digestion and the eventual waste.  A completed meal. Robbers.  Thieves.  Burglars.  Stealers.  Pick pockets. Save the rest for later.  The doggie bags have run out, jam it in your purse.  It'll keep.  Been a pleasure serving you, next time you should try the Banana Republic Pudding.  Irresistible.     

Blackmail of the foreign aid kind.  Give the crumbs of the yummy cake to the peoples, but only if we grease other countries.  Only if we prop up galleries and art programs.  It's for our own tax paying good.  I thought they cared about our grandchildren, and their grandchildren. But hey, Egypt gets a billion, it's rough in Egypt.  And Ukraine gets a half billion, they got us over a barrel for some reason.   Appreciate the 130 million for Nepal, the ultimate high ground should always be protected.  Shrewd.  However, The Smithsonian can do without the billion seems to me, it's all online, they're closed down anyway. Of course, the U.S. Post Office should actually close down, not add 20 billion.  85% of their mailbox deliveries are trashed without notice in most U.S. households according to sources.  Department of Education adding 30 billion for stabilization smashes the public trust obscenity code of decency.  And a million fo...

  Public shots seem a strange spectacle.  Bringing the cameras around, commentary, for all to see the shots.  On the whole, drunkenness has proven to be destructive, the regrets, the remorse.  Politicians and officials, celebrities won't be far behind.  Enough of this, shots should be private affairs, then you can really get down, give a shot toast, everyone shoot it at the same time, salute! Smooth tequila straight up, lime and salt.   Cheap and easy Kamikazes.  Peach Schnapps layered with Bailey's.  Tuaca Lemondrops topped with Grand Marnier.  Shots are not some sort of farce, show respect, shoot moderately, keep it intimate. Drink plenty of water before and after taking shots.  Hydration is helpful and actually enhances the effect of the shot in many cases, takes the edge off, helps the landing, holds the euphoria for longer.  These politicians and officials on TV are expressionless after taking their shot.  Incred...

  Got to invent something. It was all an accident. The Radio Is Broken. Rampant costumery in the 60s. The 70s were just vague. It was ugly in the 80s. Mass formulazation. A classy video is a buck fifty. Free artistic material should be corrected. This stinks. Genius Of Love by the Tom Tom Club. Regular rock is rock that sounds like itself. All else is progressive rock. Sometimes. Industrial strength Frank Zappa. No desire to inflict. It's called rational thinking. Not a rock and roll consumer. More Howling Wolf and Hungarian folk. The song was King Kong. Whoops. Not yet. Go ahead and laugh. Makes no difference. Give yourself a break. Specialized. Mechanical knowledge of the instrument. And an imagination. Take the chance. For people who bought the ticket to the show. Science fiction hair and diagonal  zippers. It's not going to happen. Admitted and advertised. As product only. They should have that. It's got nothing to do with music...

  Censorship is admission of total defeat, being listed is punk rock now.  Scribe punk, repeat, repeat, repeat.  Pop punk too, the commands are just too much, the guidelines are flimsy, so inabsolute.  Limiting the freedom of our own minds to decide, the freedom of our own minds to think alternately, creatively, and yes, badly.  Take your thinking back. These are heel people, defending, debunking, delaying, denying, drowning.  Get on your toes, street fighters know how to end it quick.  But the win is miserable, broken knuckles, shrieks and screams, shattered glass and shattered dignity for all involved.  A bad, bad look, regardless of gender.  Best to let the debunkers bunk each other, keep the stress low. Debunkers are the modern propagandists, the teams, the tribes, the professionals.  Lots of bunks to debunk so get moving, keep the pressure on, wait til the actual truths get revealed, the debunkers will debunk all day and night....

  The charcoal cat was in the catbird seat, young rabbit hanging out of its mouth, teeth securing breakfast for the emerald-eyed feline.  The squeak of the brakes must have rattled the hunter and the young hopper hopped away, the yawning Atticus too put out to chase it again.  Everything gets lazy in America.  Nice and lazy.  Til the panic, til the gasoline runs out, til the hogging starts.  Look out for number one, so NaaNeeNaaNeeBooBoo, so uptight.  Meanwhile, in Houston, the floods are receding and reality is left.  Nobody is being lazy.  Shout.  Texico!  Texico!  And we remember the chorus of the Texico National Anthem... We stand as Texicans, Together all along, Without measure, Our love for our God. The Cajun Navy arrived immediately, the Texican Cruz Roja, the Salvation Army, and all the everyday citizens were soon on the scene.  Even the Okies and Arkies arrived from America.  In droves, just to help.  An...

In large measure, commerce was the true reason Texico came to be.  The notion that good ideas, executed in a deliberate and intentional manner, will lead to innovation and prosperity was radical to some, especially the corrupted American establishment.  Soaked in unneeded regulations, choked by corporate taxes, and saddled with expensive entitlement programs, the American economy collapsed in the 20's.  The baby boomer transition from saving money to withdrawing money tanked the banks and investment companies.   Texicans were resourceful.  Never did they expect the government to provide for their retirement.  Retirement, in fact, was not something many Texicans pursued.  Instead, aging Texicans kicked it in as they headed towards the grave.  Business ventures, missional efforts, and other interests became more important later in life.  Rebirth, renewal, and reinvention.  Always.  No other phenomenon illustrated this spirit as clearl...

Gag.  To the 10th gag degree.  There is no fighting these gags.  Involuntary gagging just goes on and on, gag, gag, gag.  Then he finally cleared his throat. Was either a toad or frog, some sort of slime-coated reptile tucked in the back of his throat.  Get it out, man.  Make a loogy, hack and spit.  The microphone is on, it's the dinner hour.  Disgusting. Gag.  Yuck.  He's drooling, holy smokes, he's drooling!  Abuse of class, abuse of intelligence, abuse of decent manners.  The big gag.

Invited to the Governor of New York's birthday party, but the invitation indicates my acceptance will cost me ten thousand bucks.  Thinking about it, to meet the actress that played Woody Harrelson's girlfriend in White Men Can't Jump and the dude who played the young Godfather was tempting.  But dang it, seems downright tacky to have a birthday fund raiser.  If I do decide to pony up, no way in hell I'm bringing that dip a birthday present, and there better be a good cut of beef for dinner, a delicious dessert, unlimited drinks, and a decent party bag. Celebrate good times, come on!  That devildamned virus can suck it.  All we want for Christmas is our two vaccine shots.  Finally, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah.  Lockdowns are over, shutdowns are down, luck in, luck out. There's another birthday to celebrate coming up, Son of God and Man.  Don't think there's any fundraising involved, but the Salvation Army is still ringing those bells....

  Only the aftermath is really left, the final days of 20/20 insight.  Brilliantly, the holidays will ease the landing, even the scrooges will lighten up a bit.  Then back to the fog, journalism takes its toll.  Done right, done with form, done with unrestrained process and content.  Unwilling to be censored or locked out, we are more free than we know. Not down for the get-on-down, the judges took a pass.  Standing for nothing, kept their seats.  The Chief knows how to shut it down.  He was last seen working as a game show host in congress.  Some sort of game show involving peaches, he kept reading the cards wrong, things were chaotic, there was controversy, it was a humiliating bust according to game show industry insiders, although they consistently defended the Chief on critisism that he came across as a "bafoon" on screen. Each to their own tastes, dig it if you want to.  It all goes and goes and goes.  Clear vision for no...

  Submit, accept, agree.  Holdouts to the side.  That's where I was, independence had hit me hard.  Unreprogrammable.  A lost cause. The grodee pit, the scuz of our time.  Careless and without care.  Blights.  Flops.  Skunks. The opening is clear, but don't depend on it, depend on yourself.  Control your own conclusions.  Awaken 16 hours a day, translate information, twist out the angle, squeeze out the fluff, follow up on the follow ups.  Exhaust.  Shoot that last shot of lager, love the aftertaste, colder than typical.

A deep sleep, like catatonic sleep, like the good kind, like seasonal snoozing, like years of national hibernation.  Hide the evidence, clean all the rooms, pick up the place before the company arrives.  Mop.  Mind your own dignity.  Your dignity is worthless to the world, your dignity is irrelevant to others, your dignity is your own. These sunken, sulken, solemn people.  Slandering a year, which is merely a collection of days and seasons.  This 2020 trip around the sun has been a blast, a bust, a bummer, a ride, a roll, a rocker, a train, a trot, a test, a grind, a grin, and a groan.  Like all years.  But they are not the same, every single day is different, stamped by humanity, each brilliant with origins beyond understanding. Days and nights are miracles. We leave the good, the bad, and all else, to others.  Suggestions are only suggested, it's well intended, independently given, independently recieved.  Agnostic in this regard...

We are more free than you realize.  Total, and without restrictions.  Only our decisions hold us back, obedience and definance determined by calculations and instincts.  Ramifications are usually miscalculated, impossible to predict the future consistently.  Playing odds. It will occur or not, happens all the time.  Be mindful, but know that this spaceship will arrive somewhere.  This orbit is for now, we are in a holding pattern, all things remain a go.  Everything is required, even the unknown and nonsensical.  Place your bets. Dive down to the bottom of the back swamps, where the mud is stinky like death, like bloated and blood red.  Where mosquitos drink their final drops, where worms thrive, where fat hungry gators wait, where they eat, where they shit.  Let them have it, wallow and wallow, no venturing out.  Lay in your pit.  Do the belly crawl.

  CG/FC/G/FCx2/FCGC Dont you know you got to move around. Don't get caught up in a lockdown. Disappear and never be found. Gotta go, go, and go. Tired of fighting through a protest. The stupid trash and the burning mess. Tell the truth, I could care less. Wanna go, go, and go. Trust the thoughts in your own head. Got plenty of your own street cred. Nobody cares what that mayor says. Go on and go, go, and go. Quit listening to the robots. They don't care if you like it or not. Ain't no way I'm gonna stop and rot. Gonna go, go, and go.

  EA7,ED7,EA7,D7A7E Feel souls everywhere. Floating through the air. Let me make it clear. Time means nothing at all. A fallen angel. Been stuck in hell. Stuck in a jail cell. Time means nothing at all. But don't worry bout that. That's an awful trap. Relax, take a nap. Time means nothing at all. Don't sweat the news blues. Listen for the clues. Walk in your own shoes. Time means nothing at all. Days turned into nights. Get on the moon flight. The sight of all sights. Time means nothing at all.

  These particular lazy reporters are demanding proof and evidence before they will investigate.  They are sorry.  'They suck' sorry, not the apologetic form of the word.  In fact, these type of reporters are not ashamed, or even aware, of their incompetence, which renders them sorrier.  No guts, no hunches, no smoke, no fires, no breakings, got to prove it to these particular lazy reporters. I gnorant and hypocritical, when blind spots are blindfolded.  One feeds the other, projecting, washing, cleaning, always cleaning.  But light beats dark, we wonder, we color by numbers, we piece it together, we observe.  Then we report, easy.  Gonzo ethics, they are tried, they are true. Snide back, shame back, cancel back, sour back, puke back.  If you want, if you need.  But these particular lazy reporters are jokes, their sarcasm is predictable, their irony is missing, they are depressing , it's really not worth the effort.  Lots ...

Think of what a think tank does, research and advocacy.  These require completely different skills.  Research, that scientific research, the kind that has no hope, no emotion, only data.  Along with hunches and guts, these researchers should be relentless, they should work long hours, they should attend data translation conventions, they should learn the art of the question.  Every dime store think tank wanna be chump or chumpette has brilliant answers, but only the select few have brilliant questions. Then advocacy, that art of all think tank arts.  Persuasion and the need for excitement, intrigue, and creativity.  Boil down all the thinking to the nut.  Actually, three nuts.  Persuasion is always best in threes, set it up and summarize, it's virtually impossible to numerate too much.  A common problem with think tanks is the researchers want to be advocates and the advocates want to be researchers.   Understanding this phenomenon ...

C/GGFC/FFCF/GGFC--x2. Nobody talks about the Chili War. They don't bring it up anymore. But it had to be fought, had to be won. For future of country, and future of fun. Started out innocently enough. International contest to end the fuss. Finals came down to the final two. A Texican gal and American dude. Judges were chefs from around the globe. From 16 bowls they decided gold. Took a night of rest before the final round. Before the final judging went down. Russian liked his made with ribeye meat. Fat cooked off with perfect heat. Chucks of tomatoes stewing real nice. Simmered on low with ideal spice. French judge, she was a chili expert. Early on all were put on alert. Perfect taste is what she would need. All came down to the cumin seed. Judge from Peru was a mystery. The one that could change all history. Took a gulp of water after every taste. Never let anybody see their face. Next morning they all went into a room. Chili War was gonna be decided...

  Organizations are at stake, full of payrolls and self-sustaining procedures, steered by visions and guidelines, complete with missions and objectives.  Wrap all that in saran, keep it air tight, don't let the sunlight ruin utopia.  Save it for another day, put it on dark ice for the winter, the freezer won't burn.  With bloodshot eyes and mealy mouths, organizations fabricate, manipulate, and stipulate.  Rules to protect the organization, rules to eliminate disagreement, rules to eliminate the rule of reality, rules to insure ruling. I nstitutions are cracked.  They were cracked from the beginning, but the Liberty Bell rang out anyway.  From Philadelphia, the most impressive bird of all birds, the regal, the stoic, the famous bald eagle.  Their talons grip ten times tighter than human hands, they dig those claws deep, prey is rarely lost, our fine national bird.  They thrive above the noise, in soaring peace, in natural silence, with spe...

  These cliches are impressive, an avalanche of empty suitism to the Nth degree.  Women, men, and all the others.  Spitting out phrases like they contagious, like they outrageous, turn the, churn the, burn the pages.  All day, all night.  Unity is for the defeated, and there's no surrendering here. That thing, like an unexplained diddly doo sound seasoning the music perfectly.  Or an injected marinade making it all tender and delicious.  If it's cooked right.  Low and slow with liquid smoke, in a turkey sized cooking bag, simmering in juice.  Don't fuck up the bird. The greasers are back, soaked in ivy, filled with shit, without ideas, without answers, flat out stuck up.  One of them insulted my wristbands, called me a white man, mocked my readers, and implied I was a lunatic.  The nerve!  I walked away, of course, turned the other cheek, there is nothing to gain by acting on unpleasant  emotions.  Time is involve...

  The snide have no humor, assuming too much, more nitwit than wit.  Get another take, report from a low perch, let the blanks fill themselves in, let time click, paint by letters.  Throw to the wind your caution, it will do you no good.  Hypocrisy doesn't care, bribery doesn't care, grease doesn't care, they count on your caution. The pressure's off, we can start living again.  These lazy fools, either cleaned or dumb, for there is no need to clean the dumb, they are already dumb.  The courts will court it up, everyone gets paid, the future can figure it all out.  The objective of government is to keep itself going, to exist in the end.  To not eat itself. And the inspirational stories of survival are all around.  Expert sources estimate that 2 to 3 billion humans have stared down the dreaded, and deadly, Rona virus and lived to tell the story.  There is thankfulness, miracles of immune systems, actions of medical professionals, dr...

EmEmD.G. The fall of fall. When a cold wind blows. Trees lost their leaves. And the bars all closed. The dark of dark. We were warned way back. The straw man say. In spring we'll build back. The dope of dopes. Super idiot. Calm it all down. Come on get with it. The rust of rust. When the mind won't click. When wires burn. When you're mad and sick. And dust to dust. Like the ashes too. Come for awhile. Then we gotta cruise. The fall of fall. When the season turns cold. Dark comes early. And winter gets old.

  These legends are unknown, the names are meaningless, teams are nothing more than a roster.  The records are tainted, the bond is gone.  Interested observers are uninterested now, other pursuits of observation, other past times, other obsessions.  They sure could play.  Quick on the feet, living on the lines, grinding, gritting. The silenced have surrendered, those give up mutes.  Shamed into denial of truth, two plus two equals five, you see.  Listen here, you see, addition is a travesty, subtraction is best, multiplication is dangerous, and division is righteous.  This is the new math, you see, division and subtraction, division and subtraction, division and subtraction.  Think it, don't say it, you see. F reedom requires the loss of a little privacy.  When this finally occurred to me, two birds flew by.  Academic fraud.  The campus community will be shrinking soon, but they still got to make payroll, still got to cle...

Perhaps an entrepreneur type should organize the biggest after school fight ever.   Mask up, both sides, they can riot, anti-riot, loot, protest peacefully, harass, defend, defund, deny, megaphone, bullhorn, microphone, infect, cancel, shame, make signs, burn signs, break glass, spit.  No refs for this fenced in brawl, just brawlers.  Come one come all, this side start here, that side start there.  Behind the school of hard rocks, 3 o'cloc k. Drones could hover, filming from incredible angles.  Rules are there are no rules.  The fence must be tight, prison-like in its ability to contain.  This is beyond thunderdome.  Perhaps an area equivalent to 70 soccer fields, flat. Think of provisions, of sanitation, of sleep deprivation.  Of mental decay, of hopelessness, of anguish.  Slip over to the confession room, pan in tight, see the worry and fear and insecurity in their faces, hear the vacancy.  There is no glow.  Probab...

  The firings continue, and rightfully so.  They serve at the pleasure, and the pleasure has been ours.  We prefer loyalty, we prefer active brains, unwashed and glorious.  Used.  Eradication for the good of the nation. I'll gather when I want, where I want, with who I want, and why I want.  And how I want.  These are evident truths.  The dumb and numb will never rule the intellectual and lit.  Blindfold yourself, we are indifferent. The lawyers know, it's set in motion.  Bigger than imagined, the important will seem meaningless soon.  And to those D.C. firecracker elder abusers-- this will not end well for you.  Your hearts will rot, your souls will mold, your minds are gone already, y'all are in serious need of a hobby.  Collecting, wandering, hammocks, a sport, fashion, computers, blockchain, something, do something fun.

  A,E,A,EDE Once when I was a younger man. Back when I played those island songs. Joined up with The Yucatan Band. Everybody just sang along. Our Texico is a wonderful land. Caribbean beaches to mountain peaks. Travelled all over with The Yucatan Band. Dug our lyrics and dug our beats. DAx3, DAE Everybody, everybody sing along. Sing some songs, get off your phones. Nobody has to be alone. The Yucatan Band is rolling on. Bass player was a Beatles fan. Drummer had a weird little twitch. The lead guitarist of The Yucatan Band. Could play, but could be a little bitch. Eventually we folded up camp. Something bout a drunken fight. That was the end of The Yucatan Band. We played our final night. Chorus x2

G,C,G,Em,Am,G Louisiana where the delta blew. Walking the lowlands looking sad and used. Never meant to end up this way. Listened to everything they had to say. Tried to take us down with shame and lists. We're free as birds, they won't be missed. Chorus There's Swamp Queens all around.  X4. C,Em,Am,Gx2 Started a business selling songs and such. So far it hasn't amounted to much. Maybe one day someone'll need a tune. Maybe about some red afternoon. Guitars will sound and neon will glow. Music is the future of Texico. New Orleans where the funky get down. Dance til the morning comes around. Whirl like the wind and shake it good. Move around like a water snake would. No wonder they seem so mad and mean. Start up the music for the swamp queens.

  Take your stand.  When the microphone is running.  All the complaints of the age.  This hard, hard life.  Nationalism and the place of your birth.  A permanent mark, identifying a nature.  Further descriptions are made.  Cultures within cultures.  Rivalries and grudges persist for no reason at all.  Accents and the unknown.  Extend the hand of love.  Learn the nuances and insinuations.  Listen to the talk of the young, the disgust they feel.  From the pettiness of our leaders.  The greed and untrustworthiness.  Small minds of  insiders.  Puffed up like cotton candy.  Oily hands, rotting souls.  If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?  Cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change.  The flag is flying still.  Through the hatred, through the ignorance, through the weak.  Come and take it.  Surrendering is impossible to the minds o...

  There's no irony, only easy minds have those thoughts.  Pure propaganda, of the manipulation strain, of the censoring line, of the control element.  Agents of the machine, pixels of the state, and their nodding soldiers.  Masked and concealed, slogan chanting, like cowardly bandits.  Similar to buzzards, they will eventually fight each other for the roadkill scraps. The days of woe, the nights of despair, the afternoons of fretting and worry.  Lighten up, Francis.  The oxygen levels are ideal, perfectly we were placed from the sun, the big bang did us right.  Thrive and thrive all these creatures, all these grasses and trees and plants and flowers.  And the brilliance of water. As a grape becomes a raisin, as a plum becomes a prune, a soul shrinks without moisture.  Dry and stale, chewy and sticky.  Take a drink, hydrate.  Gulp it good.  The earth is spinning, we are speeding through space, the travelling is taking ...

Dazed hate, like cowards from the corn.  Stalkers, cob shucking and cob sucking, it's in the program.  The possums, the skunks, the rats, the worms.  Something is rotting, the smell is awful, the stink is stinking, the puss is oozing, it's oozing from the pawns.  Puss is oozing from their eyes. Even the celebrations are tense, no calm, no easy joy.  There is fragility, there is a thin line of teetering sanity, the wrecked baby minds.  Fed dung for so long, fed the puke of lies.  Gutless nausea, the running riot, the liquified waste.  They crave the taste. Shame is dead, it works no longer.  The shameless are offering peace, they want to move along, they want to rule.  But this winter is lit, the darkness is on the edge of town, near the swamps, where the snakes gather.  They hiss like sissies, they cry.  They do what they are told.

  Understanding or convincing cleaned people is boring, giving them the dirty truth is pointless.  Anything but the dirty truth.  Over and over, they glaze, they chant, they mutter, they make note, they whine and moan for another bath.  Wash, wash, wash, always washing.  Their laughs are hateful laughs, void of humor, full of threats.  Many observations, in all manner of dimensions, have been reported.  Lots of hope in the observations, which is dangerous.  Not enough skepticism, which is where the best observations are made, observations that pass the muster, observations that stick.  One important point, there is no crying while observing, save that for later, after the report is filed, after the story is written, when the soul relaxes.  This is a critical point for any respectable observer, please read the previous sentence again. These tactics are obnoxious, these strategies are flimsy, these manipulations are real.  The Ivy...

There are no results to accept yet, the certified, bona fide kind, the only kind that matter when it comes to acceptance in voting matters.  Probably a technicality anyways.  However, there are many things to accept right here and right now, in digital permanence, in atmospheric cloudiness, with wireless conviction and truth, as observed from the outside looking in, as seen and known.  For starters, accept that many have declared a winner of the 2020 U.S. Presidential Election based on projected results.  Not to insult the individual projectors, but as a group, as an occupation, it's been a tough run, a bunch of flops, a bit unimpressive. Wait until the projections are validated by the certified and bona fide results to accept them, it's fine, it's a basic and reasonable tenant of obviousness.  Most likely it's a technicality anyways.  Next, accept what you want to accept.  Accept is a word, it can be spoken, written, and thought.  The 1st Amendme...

The legal fight is looming like an unwanted fate.  The election cheaters are ultimately at fault, if there was election cheating, and election cheating seems likely.  The parades in the streets continue anyway, censorship lifted up as a righteous act.  For now.  In the end, Americans will say what they want to say, it's the 1st Amendment for good reason. Happy for the happiness, it's been so long for many of these currently happy people.  Despite the approaching apocalyptic enraged gloom, despite the obvious voting tabulation anomalies, despite the mathematical impossibilities, despite the deviations.  For now, don't worry, be happy.  It will be fine, just fine.  Fair is fair, legal is legal, the hand count will decide. The stories are fabricated, all of it is measured out, like a ration, like a plot.  It's not news, it is nothing new.  The network faces are stoned, immaculate, they know only what's on the green screen.  Too mu...

The night they drove out the free for good.  They were tired of red, the color, the heat, the people, they were tired of winning.  As predicted.  The Texicans watched the spectacle, the wise birth of Texico years earlier was validated as the most greedy, the most greasy, and the most sleazy took over America once and for all.  It was inevitable.  True to the communist tradition and form, they continue to create lists of common Americans who get off the line.  Even their flag was radically redesigned.  Red, white, and blue was rejected.  No one knew who was watching who, and who was doing what, and who was getting that, and who was staying quiet.  America was far from the land of the free and home of the brave.  Those words described Texico, and those seeking freedom and bravery continued to immigrate there year after year.  Americans flooded the orderly process, they were eager to become Texicans. The northern estado of Trinity, kn...

  The parties are lame, attracting the insecure, the uptight, the socially inept, the creeps, the chronic complainers, and others.  Moronic band of Twaddle Dees and Twiddle Dumbs.  Good ole do-gooders all sleazed up in slime, grubbing for coin, blades of all types near, unsuspecting backs with no idea. They subconsciously describe themselves when they describe what they detest, and the parties detest alot, they keep lists of the detested.  The detested cannot be invited to the party unless certain conditions are met and some pledge is hummed, incredibly lame. News networks, sports networks, shopping networks, and Christmas movie networks aren't mentioned in the Constitution.  In fact, I have fact checked this fact.  The supreme network calls the shots if a certain state, or states, can't get it together.  On many issues, including the voting process.  The network over all networks, with 9 satellites, orbiting. And now there are lists, it's get...

  All dead voters should be disenfranchised, they had their day, unless a mail-in ballot was postmarked on or before the official date of death.  Non-US citizens, out, even if they become official days or weeks from now.  Not yet, out.  The jailed, nah, they should not have citizen influence until they are freed. Unsigned voter ballots is a tough one.  I vote we accept them, unless the voter is dead or a Non-US citizen as described above, signatures through the mail is sketchy.  All duplicates should, by rule, be thrown out, the duplicate and the duplicated, to be clear.  Also, votes that come from US citizens in the wrong state should be tossed, stick to your state.  Weird ballots should be axed for sure, ballots that just look weird, everyone knows what a weird ballot looks like. Get on with it, fold up the ballot machines, they are from last century, we need to enable the glowvote.  Vote from our glowdevices, vote with the touch of an...

The cheating-is-a-virtue crowd.  Constant and planned, assuming reactions, predicting response.  Engineering.  It's generally a fragile strategy, extremely fragile when playing a tenacious opponent, one who is unpredictable, one who hates losing more than they love winning.  No conceding, no quiting, keeping the bait in the water. These math experts can't even add, only projections, analysis, calls, dumps, 4 standard deviations.  Go to bed.  Come back and try again tomorrow, count.  Gather up the local 3rd grade classes, they can count too, add video cameras, 1, 2, 3, 4.  Let's go, count, no recess until this assignment is complete. The fix will be fixed somehow.  It'll end in nightmare discontent for the washed.  Too much justice, roughly 6-3.  A supreme decision.  The fruit of the cheating virtue is tasty poison, delicious and deadly, like my 2 mulligans yesterday.  A slight stomach rumble grows into a loud roiling...

  And a general chaos will not ensue, despite the emotionally wrecked.  The chaos will only exist in their heads, unthinking for so long, dormant and closed.  Eyes and ears didn't matter, it was intended to look different, to sound different, to be different, but is wasn't.  Even the aftermath illusions of being done wrong won't matter, it'll be hopeless.  The condition is known as Cleaned Brain Confusion, it is treatable with rest, inversion therapy, and a lollipop. Bullhorns on election day, inaudible screaming about class or no class or low class.  They are all different, and class is a deliberate act, it's not a human trait.  Classy is best, of course.  No class, otherwise known as classless is actually tolerable, the absence of class ain't so bad, especially if we attain some class over a lifetime.  Low class is the gutter dwellers, actively seeking to be lowdown, dirty, and mean. The low class will eventually blame each other, low...

The loud losers are already losing loudly, even before the loss.  Seeking to minimize the humiliation with delusional distractions, raw envy disguised as raw anger, and worthless hoping.  They trust lawyers too much, and the lawyers are in it for the billable hours, the lawyers wanna fight forever and ever, fighting pays good.  The Headrooms will explain it all to the cleaned brains at 7 EST/8 CST.  Indignation, hysterical wailing, bloodshot eyes, and citizen disgust. The pick-up truckers of Texas have made it clear to the gawdy political tour buses clogging up the roads and highways.  Welcome.  Speeding escorts full of flags and honking through the mean streets, protection from potential rioting, car jackings, and looting maniacs.  Free speech above all, enjoy your stay, please dispose of all bus trash properly.  Don't mess with Texas. Campfire night for the election.  Plywood sales are booming, the baby fit is being prepared, it's the lo...

  Travesty of the disgusting type, sleazy, dirty.  L eaked, validated, displayed, prime time sleaze.  Dredged up.  Gossip.  An old order circ us , a national disgrace, in the highest tech of the day.    Let this process end, the harm is done, already gave it all at the office.  Made it this far on merit, the rest is politics.  Defended his name as that Senate panel sat in uppity, blank judgement.  29 years ago with the same disdain for alternate thoughts, the same hypocritical smirk, the same beady, darting eyes.  Oily, combed over hair strands, before the plugs. Running the same scam, accusing others of his crimes.  Harasser, thief, opportunist.  A stammerer, a dung slinger, a shoveler of waste, a talker of unusual inauthenticity.  The king clown, the leader of the circus clown crew.  Karma and the story of Clarence Thomas.

  The place was practically vacant, the voter poll workers running the operation smooth and peaceful.  There were no lines.  Face coverings were required for entry, of course, and my bandana was tied tight.  Appropriately dressed for a cold, rainy, north Texas day.  The kind that wakes you up, the kind that makes you take note, the kind you feel in your bones for the first time after a long, hot summer. With a flash of my valid Drivers License and a signature on a sticker, I was handed an empty ballot, given a Qtip to make my selections, and invited to choose any voting booth.  They were all open, roughly a dozen.  I thanked the worker, quickly picked a booth target, and headed back behind the registration area, where the actual voting went down.  Everyone was helpful and nice, smiles evident through the masks.  The atmosphere was rather quiet and pleasant. Had long ago given up on the original 20/20 Gonzo plan of not voting, the journali...

Oranges make em happy, pops like no other color, they tang.  Apples, crisp and sweet, red and substantial.  There is no either or, they are not exclusive.  The fruits should be mixed, the colors should be blended.  The taste of fall, the tint of the season, the odds and ends. To be twenty, when the decades were looming.  Twenty more and you're in the soup, simmering, the dinner half done, salad enjoyed, entree on its way.  Appetized and hydrated, ready for the order, the main dish will be delicious.  Only order envy can ruin it now, but don't let it happen.  Get what you like. The practical woke joke is on us.  It's not funny, there's no humor, it's all been set up to humiliate and embarrass.  A trap, a booby trap!  Step lightly, fully aware, the punkers are on the loose, looking for people to punk, looking for suckers and gullible fools, the unsuspecting and tuned out.  The asleep.

Ruined is the word man. Idiots really stick out. Chicken shit. Dark winter. Never ever ever. We're not hurting that much. Rolling around in bed at night. She's no Wallace. No where to go. Who built the cages. Sitting in squalor. What about the hoodies. Laughing at dead birds. Go to bed, fool. Success will bring us together.

The pangs are undeniable, clear and sharp, through the night.  Ouch.  These willow fools, these fearful babes, these inept minds.  Manipulated, wrapped in virtue, and secured with a ribbon of righteousness.  It will be sad for them. But sad don't matter, it will be relief, it will be a new kind of despair.  People are dying daily, all will be reminded, as if graveyards never existed or people are oblivious to our one shared fate.  And it is a good fate indeed, for heaven is badass, no pain management required, no hearts to break, no thoughts to haunt, no souls to crush.  But that's for the immortals to sort out and anticipate, the mortals can chill out, kick back, and jam.  Like coyotes. The feeble should realize their feebleness.  Canes are cheap and stylish, walking sticks are abundant, grab the handles, wear appropriate shoes, prevent.  Thankfully for now, these are only my observations, but I'm gonna be an early cane adopter in 2045 ...

  Then he went on to call his opponent in the American Presidential Election of 2020, 'Gonzo'.  Yes, stood up there on that Carson City airfield stage, with thousands screaming and waving flags, and said he was 'Gonzo'.  Inferring his brain had been compromised, that he had been a better person before, or higher functioning to be clear.  It was an interesting use of the word, but it fit in a way, everybody has a touch of 'Gonzo' in them, all minds alter.  Can't remember what the president said next, maybe it will come to me later, should start writing my mental notes down. Attention spans are on the decline, which is mostly good, our attentions have been wasted long enough.  Dwindling is the market for the thousand page novel, the three hour epic movie, the seven minute rock song, the two hour lecture, the 18 hour work day, and long Major League Baseball games.  Many people are not as bored, our life is filled with more things to experience.  Ev...

God suffered too, and suffers, and will again.   Everlasting, ever-expanding infinity, otherwise it's all meaningless. And that's nonsense, there is meaning, there is bop, boom, bang.  

Mao shamed, Stalin stirred, Fidel became the hero of too many Cubans, a cult of personality.  Making a play for the airwaves, digital clouds, and social clubs.  These thought controllers, these thought washers, scrub, scrub, always scrubbing, even their robots scrub, like a drive through car wash, left dripping and clean.  1984 was Eddie Van Halen's best work.  Orwell's too. And all the brain washed voters will throw a disbelieving landslide fit, they'll need a group bath hug, all wet wipes in America will be sold out.  Again.  Tricked clean by the Democommies.  Sad.  Sad what these washed brains are put through, it's not right.  The Democommies need enough cleaned voters to take over, and there just ain't enough cleaned voters in America.       In two decades you'll see, perhaps only 15 years says the Scrubber Of All America.  The work involved in closing down various industries is projected to lead to solid, well...

The questions are insane, they are not actually questions if the asker answers them.  The inside of a brain, where internal conversations occur, is a different domain, don't do it out loud.  Eyes are revealing, the darting, the squinting, the lookaways, the glares, the blinks, the tears.  Watch those glimpses, those little glimpses.  Or the empty eyes, those reaching for words, or thoughts, those that are sadly vacant. Smart people are obvious, the dumb not as much, but even the dumb can fool fools.  The most obvious of the dumb is the vocal dumb who are convinced they are smart, usually through delusion or insecurity, or both.  Eventually, their dumbness emerges due to actual dumbness, the dumb should be quieter, but they won't take advice.  Not that smart, not that dumb, right down the middle here, the gonzo way.  Hooray for the B minus, cheers for the bell curve center, respect to Tony Romo. Boycotts have consequences.  Disrespect a b...

Walked the bike up the last ridge at the Rio Blanco Canyon, the grades don't lie.  That sandy road muffled the tires, that gravel had to be pushed through.  Momentum takes confidence to reach its full potential, it must be used, it should never be wasted.  Damn the stop signs, forget the social engagements, use the inertia to its end.  Keep moving. Quit plodding, no more mumbling, try not to moan and groan as much.  Save it for the pain, save it for the fight.  Wail and flail, krunk the funk, smatter and flatter, make em laugh.  Slide under the barb wires, watch the christmas cactus, it'll catch you good. Cruise down rock pit road like a diesel truck, run forever. Come clean with the goods, the deal, the story.  Your face is in double vision, got a fever of 103.  Like some foreigner in this free land, no one understands your ways, no one is down for what you are putting down.  Your eyes are vacant, like a mutant, like a crawdaddy, l...

GCDG CDCG Gather up some punk wood. It's the best kind to burn. All around this neighborhood. Stacks at every turn. It's a pocketknife revolution. Started a long time ago. Only a minor intrusion. In the days of Texico. Cervecerias in the afternoon. Acoustic relaxations. Everything seems so in tune. Away from the demonstrations. It's that leftover October heat. The kind you thought was gone. Grass as dry as the creek. Been cooking all summer long. Sweet mesquite sunset breeze. Umbrellas got enough slop. Ignoring the pains in our knees. And drown the stomach knots. The ice is getting down to the slush. But the melt is still cold. We got time, no need to rush. Napping to the Black Crowes.

Cinder blocked fire, gotta a burn ban. Eucalyptus trip on a starry, milky night. Spider eyes, let's get back to some stars. Catch them before they catch the wind. Twice a year with up to 13 in a litter. They need to be killed just to be killed. Antelope roamed all the way to Guthrie. Blacktail deer tastes better than whitetail. Whip up some eggs and grilled tortillas. The coffee percolates over a hot flame. Onions and peppers, cooked up right. Wheezy Relish and crisp peppered meat.

A viral shock.  The virus don't care about the masked, or the anonymous, or the known, or the unmasked.  You stay away from me, I stay away from you, as the song goes.  Wash your hands as you wash your brain, often and repeatedly.  But it's not actually shocking, not at all, somewhat predictable, somewhat real, somewhat humanizing.  The rally around wagon will stir, it will wake, the woke will be dunked, the slam will be spiked. Something to defeat, another thing to overcome, undoomed, optimistic.  These are traits, like an inclination, like a bias, like a trend.  The inauthentic graciousness and well wishing is transparent, the giddiness bubbles over, a certain stink can't be contained.  A mist of shit.  They lie when they brag about daily prayers. A sad, sad thing to see the transformation of the old Denison Tennis Club into a church.  A dang church!  Courts still tucked on the hill, neglected, worn out, unplayable, droopy ro...

  The chaos theory is brilliant, its hypothesis is spastic, its assumptions are scarce, its outcomes are radical.  Order has its place, of course, order being order, but it's not primary and there is no brilliance in it, only of it.  Chaos is of order, chaos is not of chaos.  Perhaps that's why life is more like a cylinder than a circle.  Or, like a spiral. Denounce anyone who would eulogize a big shot leader of any known racist group, even if the departed was the longest serving U.S. Senator in history at 51 years.  And, anyone who would've been this vile person's friend, knowing the racism, should be denounced.  And those that would put signs in their yards or bumper stickers on their cars celebrating this person's name, knowing of the eulogy delivered, should be denounced.  All these people should never be undenounced, for to undenounce is to never denounce.  Denouncing is for all time, like real boycotting. Crying and whining is only...

This small world. .....following directions. Closing in tighter. .....for the good of humanity. The mental toll. .....an incredible test of still. Months and months. .....the vast awaits our arrival. Shut off the escalators. .....our soft lives of $15 drinks. Ground all the airplanes. .....and their unrighteous fees. Patrol the neighborhoods. .....on the search for gatherings. Suit up with your masks. .....zombies in a movie scene.

The underdog is ready for the show.  Don't care about the tax collector blues, the cash finds its way there somehow.  These billionaires these days are highly leveraged, they don't miss out, they pay the tolls, their accountants are worth their weight in gold.  The loops and deductions can't hide, the cash flow is what matters.  More assumptions of idiocy, the art of the belittle.       Gullible, stupid, and confused, add them all up and go for broke.  Throw in the irritated and irked, the embarrassed and ashamed, the envious and stuck up.  It'll all amount to 2nd place, and to 2nd place goes the crying.  They will scream in people's faces more, they will throw fits more, they will delude themselves more, for delusion is part of the washing process, otherwise the brains could get dirty.  Simple minds must be clean to work right, dimly and dull. Big 10 football is back!  The moderator has picked sides for sure, seems to ...

  ...broken bluebonnet pottery. ...someone lived here long ago. ...rusted red bicycle fender. ...bout a mile from the railroad . ...earth covered relics of the 30s. ...when times were the times. ...live on swine meat and geese. ...berries and roots whatever they find.  ...fish the river for carp and cats. ...the o'malley family story. ...wind and its incredible loud. ...to the north, Indian territory. ...on the southern ridge, Texas lookouts. ...channel 12 gets all the scoops. ...chainsawing and splitting stumps. ...plenty of firewood to warm your blues. ...owls watch it all from their perches. ...and the flock waits for ole shotgun.