jpaulgorman

The Faces did it.  Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood got in, got up, got out, got off, then wrecked the place.  If we knew what we know now when we were younger, ooh la la, ooh la la.  Nothing condoned, nothing glorified, rejected and denounced, in fact.  However, the Stones had to be saved, and Rod The Bod went disco, they did not stay. The Democommie Party has gone prime time, but Americans hate communism.  Cause it sucks, and it renders those under its horrible method of governance broke, depressed, malnourished, and without hope.  It's nothing more than a greedy, dirty, bloody looting strategy.  Stalin and Mao were loaded, Putin's got mounds and mounds of Red Rubles.  The Fidel fools, Cuba's manipulated idiots. I dig Bayer, you dig Tylenol, he digs Advil, she digs Excedrin. And, we all live together in uncontroversial pill harmony.  I don't think any of em work good, most of our pain still hurts, and if it doesn't, it soon will.  Either way, to pill or not to pill,

The aftermath of the landslide will be full of shocks and fits and depressions.  Like the last landslide.  Self-righteous snickering mixed with deluded minds, shaming tactics, and disrespect.  Lots to snore about for now, but the day after election day is under 100 days away.  The rats will freak out and scatter, rodents are fairly predictable. The intelligence of the overall American population has been insulted.  Eyes, ears, even smells, senses don't lie to people with sense.  Most see, hear, and smell bullshit when they see, hear, and smell bullshit.  The current mental note scene seems very active, people generally hate being taken for fools.  They will land, they will slide, they will vote. Curious about economics and the reality of the big Cincinnati Tennis Tournament, weirdly scheduled to be played in a NYC 'bubble' next month, set to pay the winner $280k instead of the $1.2 million paid out last year.  Sign of things to come perhaps, professional

What this place needs is a good, solid tropical depression.  Clear out the ice cream places, stand apart, keep your minds about you.  Quit freaking out.  Lay back, chill, eat fish slowly, casually.   Buy your own booze, and keep it down after 11.  So much wind here, gale force, knock you down wind.   Orange groves froze hard for good in '25, after a quarter century of prosperous juice business.  Took another quarter century to get a paved road, electricity, and telephone service.   Not til after WWII. The Creeks were robbed by McIntosh, also known as Hutkee.  A greedy bastard who signed fake treaties for land and cash, who kidnapped, who sold people, who was bribed, who bribed, who was a particularly pitiful human.   Who brought misery on his peaceful nation.  Who eventually died at 50 while escaping from his burning plantation home.   Outside, waited a few hundred Red Stick Law Menders delivering his sentence for unauthorized treaty activities. 

The under reaction caused the overreaction again.  Reaction to the action, the oldest law in the book of natural ways, the way we greet the day, the way we say goodnight.  But not in Portland, where the overreaction caused the under reaction.  Only another overreaction could eventually lead to another under reaction, which would be the end of it, if an end is desired, which is doubtful.  They broke the huddle with the play, strapped up their helmets and adjusted their face masks, they're trying to win the game.  But they won't. The electoral season is upon us now.  The checkers players are looking wild eyed and mumble words about nothing, deep down they know they are merely checkers players, reacting like checkers players, overreacting like checkers players, under reacting like checkers players, shit talk and bluster.  A humorless shroud of inauthenticity, cynicism, and fear cover them.  The chess players are thinking ahead, using knowledge from the past, leveraging the many

Not as spectacular as Texico. With the ruby afternoons. Kindness and considerations. Clean the nerves. Percussions and riffs. Horns. Ocean does its thing always. Seeking land and humankind. With magic and sound waves. And food and speed. Soft, pastel skies. Edges. Stretch out on the white sea sands. Tune out the talking. It's mere talk anyway. Mainly filler and fodder. Meaningless words. Junk.

GC DG AmEm DG Feather passed by in the Emerald River. Some poor bird must have drown. Maybe not, maybe it was a drifter. Passing through like a circus clown. Years ago it must have been real nice. Without all the ads and screens. Stare into the ocean til late at night. Nobody selling you anything. DCGx3 AmG Hey ya wanna buy this, Ms. Wanna have some fun, son. Well look no further, sir. You can buy it from me.  How bout a... Margarita swirl, girl. A Malibu Rum, hun. Cold beer in a can, man. You can buy it from me. Toy soldiers invaded in the dark. One was left behind. Probably just missed the mark. Possibly missed the time. Picking up garbage in a trash bag. The cost of all our gold. Gotta be real fly, gotta be so swag. That hat from Mexico.

C GG7 C GDCG Got hypnotized at the beach. Trying to find some heat relief. All the umbrellas were packed away. Drinking an ice cold lemonade. Sea birds criss and cross the surf. The fish in the ocean feel them lurk. They'll glide and dive til they get it right. Gonna chirp and burp at dinner tonight. Where's that noise coming from? Can't be the trumpet, must be the drums. Separate from all the other tracks. Couldn't believe it, my ears went crack. Make your point, make it real quick. Think I need some sort of voodoo fix. A friendly smile, a friendly face. Look at what I found on the beach today. C DCD7G Got minimized at the beach. Said jump in the water. Got tranquilized at the beach. Said jump, jump, jump in the water. Finally realized at the beach. Said jump in the water. Then I closed my eyes at the beach. Said jump, jump, jump in the water.

It was the 2nd of a double wave.  Over the original sand barrier and into a temporary beach pool.  There was no crash, where the momentum and gravity destroy a wave and it settles into a rushing bed of white bubbles and sand, it was more a slow approaching ripple that kissed the land and reflected back slowly.  There are no still moments in life, it depends on movement, life is sustained by movement.  The heart, the blood, the oxygen intake, the breathing out, ticks and twitches, microbiology, clustering cells, spastic atoms, and twisting deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA), everything collides with everything, it's all absolutely connected, all of it was created, and all of it was allowed to create. The worry is litter.  This current viral outbreak has devastated the good citizen trash pick-up scene.  Ick ick ick.  It's our reaction to hysteria of course, but the number of chronic litterers, the lazy scum, has likely stayed the same or perhaps even grown due to increases in take ou

Shook and torn. Relieved in a way. Time for rest, time for slow. Done with the running. Running is an odd form of misery.

The muting is rampant, and thankfully freedom of mute is a constitutionally protected act.  The ability to mute or unmute shall never be denied.  Silence and noise was created by God, by God!  Muzzling is another matter, not allowing a perspective, muted or not.  Like the thoughts in your own head, mostly quiet, mostly unsaid, but reasoned by your own brain. And speaking of brains, the brainwashing is running rampant too.  In general terms, many people seem to be brainwashing themselves.  Muting this, blocking that, sort of the lazy way to think.  Usually, this way of washing your brain leads to distortion of all types, and eventually to disappointment, disillusionment, and despair.  Try the IQ form of brain soap, maybe some reality shampoo, let the conditioner sit in for awhile, get it healthy, more cleaning, less washing. Which reminds me of Washington and the forthcoming name change of their sorry NFL football team.  Even Dave Campo, the worst head coach in Cowboys history, win

The mean truth. It's truth too. The realities of reality Actual situations as they actually transpire. Speculation assassins. Mocked and bloodthirsty. Tabloiders and exploiters. Dishers with scoopers and scummers. The uninsultable shall overcome. Words will never hurt me. Gather up the sticks for a blaze. Those stones'll make a fine fire pit. Hey you with the blue shoes. And touch of silver on the wings. Speak your mind. Even if it's the mean truth.

Don't care about math, the numbers mean nothing anymore, what adds, divides, multiplies, and subtracts.  Just meaningless envy and greed, perfectly dressed in grievance and injustice.  Look around you, literally around you, most people are peaceful.  And, if there is not peace, it can be found easily.  If, of course, peace is desired, and peace without justice is tough because injustice is all over and has been all over and will be all over, forever.  Life ain't fair the old saying goes. Likely I missed a request or email to sign the now famous cancel cancel culture open letter, but I'm not much of a signer anyway, seems odd to me, like you're gonna pay something down the road, with interest.  Signatures always make me think of money, one feeds the other.  Autographs are different, it's a true honor to give one, those that charge for autographs are dopes, squirmy dopes.  Capitalism at its worse. Sure don't want to he cancelled, dang.  Like, that sounds awfu

Never one to join things, associations, causes, political parties, clubs, teams, bands, or gangs.  At least not for free.  Usually, it doesn't work out all that great.  Prefer creating loose affiliations with clear purpose, processed and ordered, with some aspects of perpetual evaluation and constant adjustments, productive and eternal.  Once something is joined, reality and reason are secondary afterthoughts, the organization and it's objectives become primary. For example, let's say the Rolling Stones wanted me to join their band.  A prolific songwriter, solid rhythm guitar player, and Townes freak, it could be outstanding.  A western texan vibe, Keith riffing, Ronnie sliding, the Watts beat, and I'd be cool with Mick doing the harmonica parts on my tunes.  He's really good.  But no, I'd probably be like current bassist Darryl Jones, stuck playing the same ole tunes and probably getting less pay for the opportunity to be an employee of their big fancy band.

Wife insisted on the  Porsche. With a huge sunroof. Practice argument regarding courts. It's never a bad time to have a baby. All was smooth. And they should do what they want to do. Adria Tour was an incredible event. 28 days of brutal isolation. Novak was just dancing on the disco floor. The disgusting media and crowds. Bone pickers and shit eaters. Journalists have the right to be biased. Master of languages. Talk of cancelling the U.S. Open. Lack of entertainment. Without towels. The future of wristbands is bright. In Serbia they play serious tennis. Opening facilities everywhere. From Berlin, to China, to Tel Aviv. Monetization is not easy. Well run homemade organization. Born to do it. All of life is connected. The reason is money. Ashe Stadium is a closed environment. Double standards are standard. When he was #1. Toughe