jpaulgorman

  Generation of political pretenders.  Not one is righteous, yet they all claim righteousness.  Not one is honorable, yet they honor each other.  The game of clones, the shit show.  Our professional government class. The range of emotions is complete, we accept this unfortunate reality.  The shock left quick, returning periodically, but gone completely now.  Anger is a pointless emotion, we ditched it, channeling it into effective mockery.  Depression is about silence and those grease lickers tried to keep it quiet, then tried to keep us quiet, some sort of massive public depression.  Acceptance is more than an emotion, it is the end of the range, then it goes off to pasture and other pursuits. Into the magnificent future, our landscape awaits, full of hills and deals, thrills and chills.  It's the only rational way forward, we must scrub the canvas clean, a November power washing.  Between the cracks, into the pores with chemicals...

  Try to imagine a pointless brain, confused and conflicted, without direction, full of fear.  Danger here, spooky things there, down in the basement, cooking up the medicine.  And here we are with a wide open day, cracked by the sun, positioned perfectly for perfection, just streaming along through space.  Think thoughts of truth and hope, truth with hope, they can exist together, they should exist together.  One is hollow without the other. Truth cuts with a sharp blade, few want to know it, really want to know it.  The slice or puncture is only the beginning, the pain comes next, and the speed of pain can be surprisingly slow.  Of course, the bleeding is the worst part, gushing blood, red and clean.  Then the pressure is applied, disinfectant and bandages, the body works it, too.  Immediately, the healing starts, and truth usually heals, but not always, not without hope. If it's hopeless, it's hopeless, hopelessness has it's own truth, f...

  Some say love, some say rivers, some say forget about the sea.  The sea will be, despite you and me, rivers will ramble, the sea will be.  But I say wait, let's talk straight, what's caused all the rocking waves.  Storms and winds, broken limbs, lighten bolts and thunder hymns.  All we got is from here on out, all we got is from here on out, maybe one day I'll look back and simmer, but all we got is from here on out. Listened to the talks, walked and walked, know all my fatal fatal faults.  Sent to the deep, shivered under sheets, made my money without much greed.  Got years to grow, more road to go, more laughs more cries, more Holy Ghost.  Learned 'bout trees, the way they sneeze, the noise they make with their falling leaves.  All we got is from here on out, all we got is from here on out, maybe one day I'll look back and remember, but all we got is from here on out. Hump your left rump, on the dancing front, right one follows with an ...

  Once, when I was a kid, I read a book about an old, retired quarterback named Bart Starr.  The 5 in the number 15 caught my eyes, Speed Racer was my thing, "Go Speed Racer, Go!"  Among other topics, the book explained the Ice Bowl and how my team, the Dallas Cowboys, had lost, and Bart's team, the Green Bay Packers, had won, allowing them to move on and win Super Bowl 2 against the Kansas City Chiefs.  The frozen tundra, Vince Lombardi, -15 degrees, -48 wind chill, one critical offsides no call, and what could have been, what should have been, that day in 1967. It was the coldest New Year's Eve in recorded history at Lambeau Field, the game began at 1 p.m. and finished right at dusk.  Several players suffered frost bite, seven members of the pregame marching band were transported to local hospitals due to hypothermia, and one elderly fan died at the game due to exposure (she froze to death).  The contest was full of slips and calls and fumbles and weirdne...

  Grab the barstool and lift it high, that place is getting smashed.  It's no spot for a person like me, insults and whines, insecurity and woe, the lame of it all.  There is no path forward, we are pioneering, we are chopping the wood, clearing the trees, vines, and thorns.  We built this city, we'll build another.  Tunnels and paths, completely complete, municipal outlaws. The best way is transparent, proof of work, cut out the fluffy floozies, rut out the huffy who's whoosies.  Make it snappy, the crimes of next century await.  Information as an angle, as bullshit, as a tool, as bullshit.  Believe none of it, you hypnotic nods.  Proof of truth, slash the money chumps, cash the honey humps. No longer are we down.  Full stop.  Red.  No green in sight, caution, caution.  Yellow.

  The ferry ride over to Mackinac Island was about 20 minutes from Mackinaw City, which is where Mackinac Bridge launches cars, trucks, motorcycles, and tractor trailers over Lake Michigan and into Michigan's rugged and green Upper Pennisula (The UP).  The spelling and pronunciation of Mackinac and Mackinaw was confusing and awkward until a shop keeper on the Island set me straight.  "It's pronounced Mack-eh-naw, like ball, Mack-eh-naw, " she said again slowly, "The Island was named by the French originally, the 'c' is silent, when the English took over, they spelled it like they heard it.  It's aww."  That explained it, the dang French, the dern Brits! I thanked her, she had already talked me into some matching gloves for a toboggan I was buying.  "Gotta get the set," she insisted.  They were a dark burnt orange, I dug the color, I was easy.  A few days later in Wisconsin my dad wore them trying to keep from freezing, he dug the color....

Anything from the Department Of Anything cannot be trusted.  This is liberty 101.  Only A smidgen of scrutiny smashes any notion of integrity and public service from the current DC Department Of Swinging Dicks And Chicks.  Our employees.  The cream has dropped to the bottom, it's curdled and bad, it's no good. Announcements are meaningless, memorandums are random, news is old, and no one follows up like they promise.  Criminals will return to the scene of the crimes, election after election.  First, the breakout, rashes and lesions.  Then, the open sores, the puss, the scabs.  Finally, the pick off, back to pink. Maybe one day your vote counts 0.95, perhaps your favored staus gives you 1.05 VR (Voter Ratio).  Boost your VR with vaccine loyalty, mush media viewing credits, electric vehicle ownership, air conditioning minimalism, and meat disavowment.  Max out your VR, Maxine and Max, vote like an American.  Of course, it's maximum B...

  Lit them up in the trenches, but that was all fun and games.  Mostly, it was about his teammates.  His raw temper, later tamed, helped.  Poor Ole Miss, got crunched into the cold, snowy 1961 Cotton Bowl mud.  Mauled by the 'Horns.  Knocked out. Then the knock up, unexpected, time for business.  Fuller brushes didn't sell themselves, Austin city work wasn't bad, but hot and too smelly.  North to cool Denton, a management wiz, graduated with honors.  Mean and green before Mean Joe Greene.  First round draft pick of Texas Instruments. Two decades of TI'ing in Dallas, Sherman, Lubbock, and Midland, narrowly avoiding the Phillipines.  Then 3 decades cranking out telecommunications switches at DSC, being a hired consulting gun for The Thomas Group, and wrapping his 50 professional years as the top sales person for Texahoma Oil & Gas.  The man knew W-2 Forms.  Money was easy, he said.  Earn it easy, spend it easy.

Driving through Ennis, Texas.  Gonna be a parade today, The Spirit of 1976.  Tried ranching cows on the side, think he broke even, but we always had meat.  Ran them TI production lines, had to ban all spit cups one time due to a spill that shut down the operation.  Dipping was still allowed, true dippers drank the juice anyhow, he reasoned. With some cash to flash, it was a 280ZX.  Uncle Lou set him up right, silver with wings and a back grill, ditched the fly cover, felt it took away from the look.  Got my first speeding ticket on Forest Lane in Dallas, cruising in that car.  Wasn't supposed to leave the McKinney city limits, but whatever, it made perfect sense at the time.  Always gave grace and mercy when I got busted, always bailed me out of jams, always slipped me twenties. Went crazy, then found his way back to sane.  He had all the times, went to Timbucktoo and back.  Broke some hearts, broke some bones, broke some pride, couldn'...