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 ...