New America '76: 13. Our Very Own Hemisphere

 

In another time and place, everything is three decades older than it is now.  There is no war.  This is after the revelation of false history and crimes of the past centuries.  The royal killers covered it up in patriotism and nobility.  Honor the brave, celebrate the free.

No wonder the Orient seems uninterested.  Europia fools can't get it together, they are the guilty.  They know nothing of peace, they never have.  Come clean.  Rome has fallen, chill out.

And here we are, on our very own hemisphere. Monroe was on to something with his doctrine.  Only 20% of the world's population lives here, we are the outsiders.  North America, South America, and all points in between, from pole to pole.  Station to station.

New America '76: 12. Water Made Dusty

 

The summer is grand.  Nothing going down except what's actually going down, unless we listen to people telling us what's going down.  The twist, the shake, the on the take.  Listen not, watch not, protect your own wireless connections.  Bluetooth seems the greatest invention this century, so far.

Tell me, tell me of their woe.  How life and fate and decisions created this travesty.  Millions of European kids are dying in the mud, we hear.  500,000 have starved in the past three weeks, were told.  The goldfish must be fed, the water made dusty.

Many have jumped the fish tank, into ponds and lakes and rivers and creeks and bays and seas.  Hooks are everywhere, but there's more room to swim.  On our own and free.  Upstream, downstream, in a school, or prowling the deep.  Tunes all the way through.

Chupacabra Screw 3: Three Fingers To The Crowd

 

Screw the Hattiesburg FC.  Their unstoppable #9 and his glory sky pointing, his three fingers to the crowd as he left the field late, his pushing and shoving and his jawing and his scoring and his winning.  Wish we had him on our team.  The Chupacabras were not ready for the likes of him or weren't aware of the likes of him, or something.  Another lesson learned, the hard way, 3-5 loss, reasons for optimism, but still, dang.

0-3-1 on the season says nothing about wanting to win, the Chupacabras certainly want to win.  The blood, sweat, and tears are all over, spinning wheel, got to go round, they are busting to bust out.  It's a good trait, a solid trait, effort and want to, but it's not enough, to merely want to win.  They must have to win, to not accept losing, to detest it, to become ill by it.  They are making progress.

Tough to take, and medicine's not enough, the mind must take over, the body is a tool to maintain and improve, it must be tamed to perfection, broke in.  And so it is with a team.  Ignore the Refs, they are Refs, any team relying on Refs or blaming Refs is diminished.  Pull up your shin guards, Chupacabras, keep the chins high as your digestive system processes the first 4 games.  Hit the road like desperados, like it must be done, we definitely have the players, we must become an elite pack.