20/20 Gonzo 70: City Hall Feud

 

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 journalistic instinct of impartiality is still strong, but voting is voting, damnit!  I vote.  And me and my Qtip did just that, including weighing in on removing a city council person.  Didn't know much about it, seemed odd, had never seen that in all my years of voting, to actually kick someone out of office, or not.  It was probably due to some sort of sorted mess, some sort of discontent, some sort of city hall feud, the dirtiest kind of all.

20/20 Gonzo 69: Tint Of The Season

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.

She's No Wallace

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.

20/20 Gonzo 68: Especially The Electric

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 or so, God willing.  A stubborn delayed cane adoption seems risky.  Good thing a bicycle can be ridden way past feebleness, especially the electric. 

20/20 Gonzo 67: A Touch Of Gonzo

 

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.  Even quick prayers work fine.  Get on with it, those fortunate to live a long life only live around 35 thousand days.

Get your daily 8, your weekly 56, make the sleep hours happen, they are humanity's medicine, with dreams and tosses and turns and snores and rejuvenation.  As with most everything, moderation is essential.  Too much sleep, too many dreams, too many tosses, too many turns, too many snores, and too much rejuvenation is bad for balance.  Work it out, 10 long breaths, really deep and full of oxygen, massive exhales.  If that doesn't work, 2 Tylenol PMs, groggy is slightly better than tired.

Bop, Boom, Bang

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.  

20/20 Gonzo 66: Left Dripping And Clean

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 paying demolition and snooping jobs.  Capping the oil wells, tracking the infected and socially non-distanced, replacing residential thermal insulation, non electric car junkyard management, drone patrol pilots, among others.  This Democommie dude went on to talk about 8 year olds and lifeguarding in his early years.  Creepy and odd.

 

20/20 Gonzo 65: Boycott Abuse

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 boycott, pay the price.  Pull the plug after 1 day, be ignored, be rightly mocked, be boycotted for boycott abuse.  Call it a strike, or a fit, or call it grieving, if appropriate.  Boycotts are for customers, not employees.

20/20 Gonzo 64: Like A Crawdaddy

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, like a sneaky coyote howling like a coward, waiting for the easy prey, the injured, the dying, the dead.  Covering tracks, high on the hog.

Punk Wood

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.

Spider Eyes

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.

20/20 Gonzo 63: A Certain Stink

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 rotted nets, rusted fences, and broken lights.  This church is a big disappointment, jacked up priorities, wayward and wandering, going nowhere in this earthly wilderness, just wandering.  God gave them a tennis club and they squandered it, wasted it, ruined it.

20/20 Gonzo 62: Whine Pollution

 

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 influential in the short term, especially in regards to the petty.  Anything to get away from it, even inauthentic and tepid agreement, is the initial instinct of most.  However, the mid and long term influence of crying and whining is actually inverted, ironically ensuring the opposite effect.  Crying should be reserved for actual emotional reactions and whining is never appropriate.  Whine pollution must be defeated.