20/20 Gonzo 88: Think Tank Thoughts

Think of what a think tank does, research and advocacy.  These require completely different skills.  Research, that scientific research, the kind that has no hope, no emotion, only data.  Along with hunches and guts, these researchers should be relentless, they should work long hours, they should attend data translation conventions, they should learn the art of the question.  Every dime store think tank wanna be chump or chumpette has brilliant answers, but only the select few have brilliant questions.

Then advocacy, that art of all think tank arts.  Persuasion and the need for excitement, intrigue, and creativity.  Boil down all the thinking to the nut.  Actually, three nuts.  Persuasion is always best in threes, set it up and summarize, it's virtually impossible to numerate too much.  A common problem with think tanks is the researchers want to be advocates and the advocates want to be researchers.

 

Understanding this phenomenon can give a think tank a thinking chance, but it's rare.  Singers want to act and actors want to sing, dogs want to purr and cats want to growl, thinking gets lost and tanks go dry.  Usually, these think tank thoughts reflect shallow conformity and predetermined conclusions.  Water logged minds, soggy and full of dull confusion.  Useless, thoughtless beggars, thinking of how to make payroll.

Texico Music Night: Chili War

C/GGFC/FFCF/GGFC--x2.

Nobody talks about the Chili War.

They don't bring it up anymore.

But it had to be fought, had to be won.

For future of country, and future of fun.

Started out innocently enough.

International contest to end the fuss.

Finals came down to the final two.

A Texican gal and American dude.

Judges were chefs from around the globe.

From 16 bowls they decided gold.

Took a night of rest before the final round.

Before the final judging went down.

Russian liked his made with ribeye meat.

Fat cooked off with perfect heat.

Chucks of tomatoes stewing real nice.

Simmered on low with ideal spice.

French judge, she was a chili expert.

Early on all were put on alert.

Perfect taste is what she would need.

All came down to the cumin seed.

Judge from Peru was a mystery.

The one that could change all history.

Took a gulp of water after every taste.

Never let anybody see their face.

Next morning they all went into a room.

Chili War was gonna be decided soon.

Then all three judges started in.

Gonna finally put this war to an end.

Carried live on all the TV stations.

Streamed to the corners of every nation.

Gold went to the Texican gal.

Because beans in chili just ain't allowed.

Let's all, let's all, agree to agree.

If it's beans you want, if it beans you need.

Don't be reckless, don't be silly.

Eat beans with beans, eat chili with chili.

While we're at it let's discuss the sides.

Those extra ingredients that turned the tide.

Fresh chopped onions and crisp cilantro.

A big spoonful of Texico.

2020 Gonzo 87: Our Fine National Bird

 

Organizations are at stake, full of payrolls and self-sustaining procedures, steered by visions and guidelines, complete with missions and objectives.  Wrap all that in saran, keep it air tight, don't let the sunlight ruin utopia.  Save it for another day, put it on dark ice for the winter, the freezer won't burn.  With bloodshot eyes and mealy mouths, organizations fabricate, manipulate, and stipulate.  Rules to protect the organization, rules to eliminate disagreement, rules to eliminate the rule of reality, rules to insure ruling.

Institutions are cracked.  They were cracked from the beginning, but the Liberty Bell rang out anyway.  From Philadelphia, the most impressive bird of all birds, the regal, the stoic, the famous bald eagle.  Their talons grip ten times tighter than human hands, they dig those claws deep, prey is rarely lost, our fine national bird.  They thrive above the noise, in soaring peace, in natural silence, with speed and sight.

These shouting robbers, these cowardly goons, these runts of the litter.  Get off your horse and fight, let's see what you got, let's see if the shouting works, slamdance with some slogans, mosh in the shame pit, request surrender formally, come and take it.  Wake me when it's over, here's where it gets boring.  Uncomfortable conversations are the only kind worth having, but many people never listen, they are hiding, they are proclaiming, they are accusing, they are insecure.  Dumbed down and dim.

20/20 Gonzo 86: Unexplained Diddly Doo Sound

 

These cliches are impressive, an avalanche of empty suitism to the Nth degree.  Women, men, and all the others.  Spitting out phrases like they contagious, like they outrageous, turn the, churn the, burn the pages.  All day, all night.  Unity is for the defeated, and there's no surrendering here.

That thing, like an unexplained diddly doo sound seasoning the music perfectly.  Or an injected marinade making it all tender and delicious.  If it's cooked right.  Low and slow with liquid smoke, in a turkey sized cooking bag, simmering in juice.  Don't fuck up the bird.

The greasers are back, soaked in ivy, filled with shit, without ideas, without answers, flat out stuck up.  One of them insulted my wristbands, called me a white man, mocked my readers, and implied I was a lunatic.  The nerve!  I walked away, of course, turned the other cheek, there is nothing to gain by acting on unpleasant emotions.  Time is involved, and time should not be wasted.

20/20 Gonzo 85: More Nitwit Than Wit

 

The snide have no humor, assuming too much, more nitwit than wit.  Get another take, report from a low perch, let the blanks fill themselves in, let time click, paint by letters.  Throw to the wind your caution, it will do you no good.  Hypocrisy doesn't care, bribery doesn't care, grease doesn't care, they count on your caution.

The pressure's off, we can start living again.  These lazy fools, either cleaned or dumb, for there is no need to clean the dumb, they are already dumb.  The courts will court it up, everyone gets paid, the future can figure it all out.  The objective of government is to keep itself going, to exist in the end.  To not eat itself.

And the inspirational stories of survival are all around.  Expert sources estimate that 2 to 3 billion humans have stared down the dreaded, and deadly, Rona virus and lived to tell the story.  There is thankfulness, miracles of immune systems, actions of medical professionals, drugs.  There is grace.  But kindness can be mistaken for weakness, and grace is strong.

Texico Music Night: The Fall Of Fall

EmEmD.G.

The fall of fall.

When a cold wind blows.

Trees lost their leaves.

And the bars all closed.

The dark of dark.

We were warned way back.

The straw man say.

In spring we'll build back.

The dope of dopes.

Super idiot.

Calm it all down.

Come on get with it.

The rust of rust.

When the mind won't click.

When wires burn.

When you're mad and sick.

And dust to dust.

Like the ashes too.

Come for awhile.

Then we gotta cruise.

The fall of fall.

When the season turns cold.

Dark comes early.

And winter gets old.

20/20 Gonzo 84: Give Up Mutes

 

These legends are unknown, the names are meaningless, teams are nothing more than a roster.  The records are tainted, the bond is gone.  Interested observers are uninterested now, other pursuits of observation, other past times, other obsessions.  They sure could play.  Quick on the feet, living on the lines, grinding, gritting.

The silenced have surrendered, those give up mutes.  Shamed into denial of truth, two plus two equals five, you see.  Listen here, you see, addition is a travesty, subtraction is best, multiplication is dangerous, and division is righteous.  This is the new math, you see, division and subtraction, division and subtraction, division and subtraction.  Think it, don't say it, you see.

Freedom requires the loss of a little privacy.  When this finally occurred to me, two birds flew by.  Academic fraud.  The campus community will be shrinking soon, but they still got to make payroll, still got to clean brains, still got to research with researchers.  Tap into the massive offshore endowments, whatever it takes.

20/20 Gonzo 83: Drones Could Hover

Perhaps an entrepreneur type should organize the biggest after school fight ever.   Mask up, both sides, they can riot, anti-riot, loot, protest peacefully, harass, defend, defund, deny, megaphone, bullhorn, microphone, infect, cancel, shame, make signs, burn signs, break glass, spit.  No refs for this fenced in brawl, just brawlers.  Come one come all, this side start here, that side start there.  Behind the school of hard rocks, 3 o'clock.

Drones could hover, filming from incredible angles.  Rules are there are no rules.  The fence must be tight, prison-like in its ability to contain.  This is beyond thunderdome.  Perhaps an area equivalent to 70 soccer fields, flat.

Think of provisions, of sanitation, of sleep deprivation.  Of mental decay, of hopelessness, of anguish.  Slip over to the confession room, pan in tight, see the worry and fear and insecurity in their faces, hear the vacancy.  There is no glow.  Probably be too depressing to watch, a financial bust, a bad idea.

20/20 Gonzo 82: Firecracker Elder Abusers

 

The firings continue, and rightfully so.  They serve at the pleasure, and the pleasure has been ours.  We prefer loyalty, we prefer active brains, unwashed and glorious.  Used.  Eradication for the good of the nation.

I'll gather when I want, where I want, with who I want, and why I want.  And how I want.  These are evident truths.  The dumb and numb will never rule the intellectual and lit.  Blindfold yourself, we are indifferent.

The lawyers know, it's set in motion.  Bigger than imagined, the important will seem meaningless soon.  And to those D.C. firecracker elder abusers-- this will not end well for you.  Your hearts will rot, your souls will mold, your minds are gone already, y'all are in serious need of a hobby.  Collecting, wandering, hammocks, a sport, fashion, computers, blockchain, something, do something fun.

Texico Music Night: The Yucatan Band

 

A,E,A,EDE

Once when I was a younger man.

Back when I played those island songs.

Joined up with The Yucatan Band.

Everybody just sang along.

Our Texico is a wonderful land.

Caribbean beaches to mountain peaks.

Travelled all over with The Yucatan Band.

Dug our lyrics and dug our beats.

DAx3, DAE

Everybody, everybody sing along.

Sing some songs, get off your phones.

Nobody has to be alone.

The Yucatan Band is rolling on.

Bass player was a Beatles fan.

Drummer had a weird little twitch.

The lead guitarist of The Yucatan Band.

Could play, but could be a little bitch.

Eventually we folded up camp.

Something bout a drunken fight.

That was the end of The Yucatan Band.

We played our final night.

Chorus x2

Texico Music Night: Swamp Queens

G,C,G,Em,Am,G

Louisiana where the delta blew.

Walking the lowlands looking sad and used.

Never meant to end up this way.

Listened to everything they had to say.

Tried to take us down with shame and lists.

We're free as birds, they won't be missed.

Chorus

There's Swamp Queens all around.  X4.

C,Em,Am,Gx2

Started a business selling songs and such.

So far it hasn't amounted to much.

Maybe one day someone'll need a tune.

Maybe about some red afternoon.

Guitars will sound and neon will glow.

Music is the future of Texico.

New Orleans where the funky get down.

Dance til the morning comes around.

Whirl like the wind and shake it good.

Move around like a water snake would.

No wonder they seem so mad and mean.

Start up the music for the swamp queens.

Texico Nights: Independence And The Freakout

 

Take your stand.  When the microphone is running.  All the complaints of the age.  This hard, hard life.  Nationalism and the place of your birth.  A permanent mark, identifying a nature.  Further descriptions are made.  Cultures within cultures.  Rivalries and grudges persist for no reason at all.  Accents and the unknown.  Extend the hand of love.  Learn the nuances and insinuations.  Listen to the talk of the young, the disgust they feel.  From the pettiness of our leaders.  The greed and untrustworthiness.  Small minds of  insiders.  Puffed up like cotton candy.  Oily hands, rotting souls.  If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?  Cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change.  The flag is flying still.  Through the hatred, through the ignorance, through the weak.  Come and take it.  Surrendering is impossible to the minds of the free.  Independence and the freak out.  The lone stars can slip out the back, they owe nothing.  

1.  The Yucatan Band

2.  The Fall Of Fall

3.  Hippies On The Caprock

4.  Chili War

5.  History On Bar Napkins

6.  That Hat From Mexico

7.  The News Blues

8.  Macho Burger

9.  Swamp Queens

10.  Punk Wood

The music always plays.  Utopia is dancing with swirls and glowers.  The alternative is reality, and reality is real.  Spirits are numb, defeated and stale.  Only a bucket of water in an ocean.  These massive oceans.  A splash or two is all.  Yell it out.  Loud, louder than ever.  Liberty boys and girls, looking for fun.  Looking for kicks.  Searching for taste.  While we're still young and learning.  Before the dim locator, and the sleepy awakes.  Kneel on a knee, be serious in your stand.  Summon the cameras for your statement.  Mumbling and whining, you can do better than that.  Give a million, and take a huge deduction, to prove your sincerity.  The rich!  The rich!  Texico and the rearrangement, a sensible way to peace.

20/20 Gonzo 81: Gulp It Good

 

There's no irony, only easy minds have those thoughts.  Pure propaganda, of the manipulation strain, of the censoring line, of the control element.  Agents of the machine, pixels of the state, and their nodding soldiers.  Masked and concealed, slogan chanting, like cowardly bandits.  Similar to buzzards, they will eventually fight each other for the roadkill scraps.

The days of woe, the nights of despair, the afternoons of fretting and worry.  Lighten up, Francis.  The oxygen levels are ideal, perfectly we were placed from the sun, the big bang did us right.  Thrive and thrive all these creatures, all these grasses and trees and plants and flowers.  And the brilliance of water.

As a grape becomes a raisin, as a plum becomes a prune, a soul shrinks without moisture.  Dry and stale, chewy and sticky.  Take a drink, hydrate.  Gulp it good.  The earth is spinning, we are speeding through space, the travelling is taking its toll, the gravitational pressure is constant, the orbit is worn.

20/20 Gonzo 80: Hiss Like Sissies

Dazed hate, like cowards from the corn.  Stalkers, cob shucking and cob sucking, it's in the program.  The possums, the skunks, the rats, the worms.  Something is rotting, the smell is awful, the stink is stinking, the puss is oozing, it's oozing from the pawns.  Puss is oozing from their eyes.

Even the celebrations are tense, no calm, no easy joy.  There is fragility, there is a thin line of teetering sanity, the wrecked baby minds.  Fed dung for so long, fed the puke of lies.  Gutless nausea, the running riot, the liquified waste.  They crave the taste.

Shame is dead, it works no longer.  The shameless are offering peace, they want to move along, they want to rule.  But this winter is lit, the darkness is on the edge of town, near the swamps, where the snakes gather.  They hiss like sissies, they cry.  They do what they are told.

20/20 Gonzo 79: Their Vines Are Infected

 

Understanding or convincing cleaned people is boring, giving them the dirty truth is pointless.  Anything but the dirty truth.  Over and over, they glaze, they chant, they mutter, they make note, they whine and moan for another bath.  Wash, wash, wash, always washing.  Their laughs are hateful laughs, void of humor, full of threats. 

Many observations, in all manner of dimensions, have been reported.  Lots of hope in the observations, which is dangerous.  Not enough skepticism, which is where the best observations are made, observations that pass the muster, observations that stick.  One important point, there is no crying while observing, save that for later, after the report is filed, after the story is written, when the soul relaxes.  This is a critical point for any respectable observer, please read the previous sentence again.

These tactics are obnoxious, these strategies are flimsy, these manipulations are real.  The Ivy League has let us down, their vines are infected, their tanks don't think anymore, they are elite no longer.  The mopey dopes, the foolish fools, the bores.  They are running up the garden wall, they are slipping, they are falling, bells are ringing, dings are dinging, alerts are alerting, the post modern dim.  Empty and clean.

20/20 Gonzo 78: Accepting Reality

There are no results to accept yet, the certified, bona fide kind, the only kind that matter when it comes to acceptance in voting matters.  Probably a technicality anyways.  However, there are many things to accept right here and right now, in digital permanence, in atmospheric cloudiness, with wireless conviction and truth, as observed from the outside looking in, as seen and known.  For starters, accept that many have declared a winner of the 2020 U.S. Presidential Election based on projected results.  Not to insult the individual projectors, but as a group, as an occupation, it's been a tough run, a bunch of flops, a bit unimpressive.

Wait until the projections are validated by the certified and bona fide results to accept them, it's fine, it's a basic and reasonable tenant of obviousness.  Most likely it's a technicality anyways.  Next, accept what you want to accept.  Accept is a word, it can be spoken, written, and thought.  The 1st Amendment is one fine Amendment.

Accepting reality is an important skill.  Reality is constantly being avoided by many, it's usually being manipulated by a few, and causes all kinds of misery for those who avoid it.  Accepting reality should be done carefully, with much thought and deliberation, with doubts and curiosities.  Reality should be tested, especially these days, especially by any self-respecting journalist, reporting must be accurate for reporting to be accepted.  It's virtually a technicality anyways.

20/20 Gonzo 77: Currently Happy People

The legal fight is looming like an unwanted fate.  The election cheaters are ultimately at fault, if there was election cheating, and election cheating seems likely.  The parades in the streets continue anyway, censorship lifted up as a righteous act.  For now.  In the end, Americans will say what they want to say, it's the 1st Amendment for good reason.

Happy for the happiness, it's been so long for many of these currently happy people.  Despite the approaching apocalyptic enraged gloom, despite the obvious voting tabulation anomalies, despite the mathematical impossibilities, despite the deviations.  For now, don't worry, be happy.  It will be fine, just fine.  Fair is fair, legal is legal, the hand count will decide.

The stories are fabricated, all of it is measured out, like a ration, like a plot.  It's not news, it is nothing new.  The network faces are stoned, immaculate, they know only what's on the green screen.  Too much is assumed, too much is unquestioned.  They read what they are told, they listen to their ear buds, they take it to the commercial break. 

Texico Nights: More Time For Kicks

The night they drove out the free for good.  They were tired of red, the color, the heat, the people, they were tired of winning.  As predicted.  The Texicans watched the spectacle, the wise birth of Texico years earlier was validated as the most greedy, the most greasy, and the most sleazy took over America once and for all.  It was inevitable.  True to the communist tradition and form, they continue to create lists of common Americans who get off the line.  Even their flag was radically redesigned.  Red, white, and blue was rejected.  No one knew who was watching who, and who was doing what, and who was getting that, and who was staying quiet.  America was far from the land of the free and home of the brave.  Those words described Texico, and those seeking freedom and bravery continued to immigrate there year after year.  Americans flooded the orderly process, they were eager to become Texicans.

The northern estado of Trinity, known for its deep ellum blues, was crisp and cool in the autumn.  L. Dean Fitzgerald watched the self destruction of Texico's northern neighbor.  As a younger man his role in the creation of Texico was well known, he had warned of the path America was on, he was tired of cartel violence, he was tired of racial obsessions, he was tired of the lack of peace.  Author of the Texico Papers, negotiator of the Texas and Mexico merger, and arranger of the shrewd 2nd Louisiana Purchase, which bloodlessly ended America's claim on its former lands.  Since that time, many countries and American states have inquired on the possibility of annexation.  Oklahoma and Arkansas from the north, Guatemala and Belize from the south, and several islands from the Caribbean Sea. 

Adding new territory was a tricky proposition, politically and practically.  The Americans were easy, they were broke.  Another $1 Trillion bucks, the same amount paid for Louisiana years before, would likely do it.  For both states, Oklahoma and Arkansas, a 2 for 1 deal.  The other additions could cause a stir and Texico was adverse to conflicts, especially conflicts of choice.  Rarely was their lethal capability needed, defending the country proved easy.  The world had seen the quick and fierce destruction of the Mexican drug cartels, all knew of the incidents in San Diego, and the Lake Texoma Dam War was the final signal to plotting enemies.  Don't mess with Texico. 

Since those early skirmishes, peace has prevailed, no picking fights, no foreign interventions, the world took note.  More time for music in Texico, more time for kicks.  The nights burned more neon than ever, laughter was in the air, prosperity and confidence in the future.  America was irritated all the time it seemed.  Grievances and payback, scores to settle, enemies to crush, citizens to loot.

20/20 Gonzo 76: The Supreme Network

 

The parties are lame, attracting the insecure, the uptight, the socially inept, the creeps, the chronic complainers, and others.  Moronic band of Twaddle Dees and Twiddle Dumbs.  Good ole do-gooders all sleazed up in slime, grubbing for coin, blades of all types near, unsuspecting backs with no idea. They subconsciously describe themselves when they describe what they detest, and the parties detest alot, they keep lists of the detested.  The detested cannot be invited to the party unless certain conditions are met and some pledge is hummed, incredibly lame.

News networks, sports networks, shopping networks, and Christmas movie networks aren't mentioned in the Constitution.  In fact, I have fact checked this fact.  The supreme network calls the shots if a certain state, or states, can't get it together.  On many issues, including the voting process.  The network over all networks, with 9 satellites, orbiting.

And now there are lists, it's getting very exciting.  Me, me, me, please!  The Gonzo list for sure, that list full of the absent minded, the crazed, the absurd, the distracted, the triple fact checkers, the interested observers, the uninterested leisure seekers, and the personal pacifists.  Was hoping for the 50 over 50 list, but maybe a few years from now.  Still too young to have seen it all.

20/20 Gonzo 75: Weird Ballots

 

All dead voters should be disenfranchised, they had their day, unless a mail-in ballot was postmarked on or before the official date of death.  Non-US citizens, out, even if they become official days or weeks from now.  Not yet, out.  The jailed, nah, they should not have citizen influence until they are freed.

Unsigned voter ballots is a tough one.  I vote we accept them, unless the voter is dead or a Non-US citizen as described above, signatures through the mail is sketchy.  All duplicates should, by rule, be thrown out, the duplicate and the duplicated, to be clear.  Also, votes that come from US citizens in the wrong state should be tossed, stick to your state.  Weird ballots should be axed for sure, ballots that just look weird, everyone knows what a weird ballot looks like.

Get on with it, fold up the ballot machines, they are from last century, we need to enable the glowvote.  Vote from our glowdevices, vote with the touch of an app.  Ditch the U.S. mail, register all eligible voters automatically and accurately, close all the polling places.  The truth is, polling places have no real place in the future of voting.  Such a hassle.

  

20/20 Gonzo 74: The Fix Will Be Fixed

The cheating-is-a-virtue crowd.  Constant and planned, assuming reactions, predicting response.  Engineering.  It's generally a fragile strategy, extremely fragile when playing a tenacious opponent, one who is unpredictable, one who hates losing more than they love winning.  No conceding, no quiting, keeping the bait in the water.

These math experts can't even add, only projections, analysis, calls, dumps, 4 standard deviations.  Go to bed.  Come back and try again tomorrow, count.  Gather up the local 3rd grade classes, they can count too, add video cameras, 1, 2, 3, 4.  Let's go, count, no recess until this assignment is complete.

The fix will be fixed somehow.  It'll end in nightmare discontent for the washed.  Too much justice, roughly 6-3.  A supreme decision.  The fruit of the cheating virtue is tasty poison, delicious and deadly, like my 2 mulligans yesterday.  A slight stomach rumble grows into a loud roiling stew, a green tint hovers, bodily fluids seek escape, the mind worries, exhaustion, sweats, cheating is not a virtue.

20/20 Gonzo 73: Cleaned Brain Confusion

 

And a general chaos will not ensue, despite the emotionally wrecked.  The chaos will only exist in their heads, unthinking for so long, dormant and closed.  Eyes and ears didn't matter, it was intended to look different, to sound different, to be different, but is wasn't.  Even the aftermath illusions of being done wrong won't matter, it'll be hopeless.  The condition is known as Cleaned Brain Confusion, it is treatable with rest, inversion therapy, and a lollipop.

Bullhorns on election day, inaudible screaming about class or no class or low class.  They are all different, and class is a deliberate act, it's not a human trait.  Classy is best, of course.  No class, otherwise known as classless is actually tolerable, the absence of class ain't so bad, especially if we attain some class over a lifetime.  Low class is the gutter dwellers, actively seeking to be lowdown, dirty, and mean.

The low class will eventually blame each other, lowdown, dirty, and mean.  Shoulda will appear with hindsight 20/20 vision, coulda will regret this or that, woulda will continue to ask for money.  There will be little reflection, little learning, and lots more shaming.  The classy will ignore them, because they always ignore the low class.  We in the Gonzo class will remain neutral, always calling it like we see it, running to the action, punctuating and closing strong.

20/20 Gonzo 72: Bus Trash

The loud losers are already losing loudly, even before the loss.  Seeking to minimize the humiliation with delusional distractions, raw envy disguised as raw anger, and worthless hoping.  They trust lawyers too much, and the lawyers are in it for the billable hours, the lawyers wanna fight forever and ever, fighting pays good.  The Headrooms will explain it all to the cleaned brains at 7 EST/8 CST.  Indignation, hysterical wailing, bloodshot eyes, and citizen disgust.

The pick-up truckers of Texas have made it clear to the gawdy political tour buses clogging up the roads and highways.  Welcome.  Speeding escorts full of flags and honking through the mean streets, protection from potential rioting, car jackings, and looting maniacs.  Free speech above all, enjoy your stay, please dispose of all bus trash properly.  Don't mess with Texas.

Campfire night for the election.  Plywood sales are booming, the baby fit is being prepared, it's the loser way.  Not only the crying and screaming, but the underwear soiling.  Pampers and Huggies are being hoarded, pacifiers are sold out, butt rash ointment is scarce.  All we hear is radio ga ga, radio goo goo.

20/20 Gonzo 71: King Clown

 

Travesty of the disgusting type, sleazy, dirty.  Leaked, validated, displayed, prime time sleaze.  Dredged up.  Gossip.  An old order circus, a national disgrace, in the highest tech of the day.

  

Let this process end, the harm is done, already gave it all at the office.  Made it this far on merit, the rest is politics.  Defended his name as that Senate panel sat in uppity, blank judgement.  29 years ago with the same disdain for alternate thoughts, the same hypocritical smirk, the same beady, darting eyes.  Oily, combed over hair strands, before the plugs.

Running the same scam, accusing others of his crimes.  Harasser, thief, opportunist.  A stammerer, a dung slinger, a shoveler of waste, a talker of unusual inauthenticity.  The king clown, the leader of the circus clown crew.  Karma and the story of Clarence Thomas.

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.

The Vast

This small world.
.....following directions.
Closing in tighter.
.....for the good of humanity.
The mental toll.
.....an incredible test of still.
Months and months.
.....the vast awaits our arrival.

Shut off the escalators.
.....our soft lives of $15 drinks.
Ground all the airplanes.
.....and their unrighteous fees.
Patrol the neighborhoods.
.....on the search for gatherings.
Suit up with your masks.
.....zombies in a movie scene.

20/20 Gonzo 61: The Worst Adult

The underdog is ready for the show.  Don't care about the tax collector blues, the cash finds its way there somehow.  These billionaires these days are highly leveraged, they don't miss out, they pay the tolls, their accountants are worth their weight in gold.  The loops and deductions can't hide, the cash flow is what matters.  More assumptions of idiocy, the art of the belittle.      

Gullible, stupid, and confused, add them all up and go for broke.  Throw in the irritated and irked, the embarrassed and ashamed, the envious and stuck up.  It'll all amount to 2nd place, and to 2nd place goes the crying.  They will scream in people's faces more, they will throw fits more, they will delude themselves more, for delusion is part of the washing process, otherwise the brains could get dirty.  Simple minds must be clean to work right, dimly and dull.

Big 10 football is back!  The moderator has picked sides for sure, seems to be on a power trip, like the worst adult at the picnic.  Two against one isn't really that unfair, the flapping going on is so obvious, what a long list of impediments.  And the smirking continues, use the dead for sick purposes, use the doom.  All the fans are feeling good, like draft night, they all give their team high marks.

Texas Lookouts

 

...broken bluebonnet pottery.

...someone lived here long ago.

...rusted red bicycle fender.

...bout a mile from the railroad.

...earth covered relics of the 30s.

...when times were the times.

...live on swine meat and geese.

...berries and roots whatever they find. 

...fish the river for carp and cats.

...the o'malley family story.

...wind and its incredible loud.

...to the north, Indian territory.

...on the southern ridge, Texas lookouts.

...channel 12 gets all the scoops.

...chainsawing and splitting stumps.

...plenty of firewood to warm your blues.

...owls watch it all from their perches.

...and the flock waits for ole shotgun.

20/20 Gonzo 60: Nothing Rots In Vain

 

Most condemn rioting, of course.  And most call B.S. on looting, no doubt.  Targeted assassinations of peace officers is universally rejected by most, without question.  Seems most have come to a level of agreement, something most can peacefully protest together. Screw the few.

This Kay girl must be really rich.  Not sure what 401 means, but evidently she's worth trillions upon trillions.  There's old rumors about her hula hoops or tax loops, something or the other. Details escape me, but there was scandalous infidelity and betrayal involved.  If you see Kay, tell her I need her, if you see Kay, tell her I'll be here.

Mojo can never be taken, ever.  It's only given away or abandoned.  Reluctantly, unwillingly, knowing of the oldness to come, conscious of what it all means, but fine with it, inclined to it, realism of days and time and night.  Let it rot in the road, for nothing rots in vain, Mojo will find another ride.  Take a look around, see which way the wind blows.

20/20 Gonzo 59: Mooch Away

 

Instead of the word politics, use the word game.  The gamers are lined up and ready, this gaming campaign has gone on long enough.  Insults are flying, reputation trashing has begun, shit talking, comparisons to evil historical figures, planting seeds of fear and doubt.  This gaming scene is tough, need the best gaming advisors possible, need to break out all the gaming tricks.  Gamers will say anything to get picked.

 

No dying wishes here, lots of appreciation for getting to be a human for awhile. It's all been free, except for the painful tax.  Reliance is the way through, rely on and be relied upon.  On each other, and things, and intelligence, and faith, and peace, and music.  Mooch away.

 

Thankfully, most don't care all that much about the self-righteous.  Especially the stupid self-righteous.  More sore losing, more crying, more Mao shaming.  Snore.  Boring games, a bunch of boring gamers playing boring games.

20/20 Gonzo 58: The Tune Out

No comment, my Lords.  The glowgods were all gathered, Zapp and Bree were bossing all the other gods around, talking about search engines and algorithms.  The social club protested, Geka and Lars were completely aghast, calling them old fogies and mocking their bossing.  Bont and Tona didn't care, if they coded it, they coded it, Scol and Kish could worry about the transmissions, that was their job.  Mostly, it was petty god bickering, I didn't want to get involved.

The capacity to ignore, like turning the cheek, like avoiding primal instincts, like chilling.  Not immediately, a chance is given, an open mind, an attempt to understand and reason, but wasting time is a no no.  Out of eyes and ears, out of mind.  It will nag, this something being ignored, it will remind, its annoying little ways.  The tune out still has some static, but the volume fades and fades.

  

Step 1 is deciding what to ignore.  Next, ignore any judgement by others on what is ignored, this is a personal exercise.  Then, ignore any doubting thoughts, step 1 should not be taken lightly, count the costs prior to deciding what to ignore.  As a general rule, ignore the uninspiring, ignore the hopeless, ignore the cynics.  Your attention is too valuable, ignore wisely. 

20/20 Gonzo 57: Without The Cons

 

Must be some sort of plan, surely the doctors have consulted, coordinated, and determined the best way forward.  Only the family can know, they certainly want it all to get better, for the better, the sooner the better, the drugs don't even kick it anymore.  For now, ignore the obvious seems the play, endure the embarrassment.  Couldn't happen to a sweller guy, shameless as ever, raging mutterer, indignant about the lack of dignity.  All the while, on the take, taking, indistinguishable from the other takers, an uncommon looter.

The sound of snoring, the true anthem of the NFL.  Referees waving yellow flags, yawning spectators, ceremonial attire.  Like professional boxing and Elvis before their falls, bloated and boring, likely compromised, big paydays above all, nothing but a foolish spectacle, owned by Vegas.  Thirty minutes of action packed into three hours, players rarely looking tired, most of them playing less than ten plays.  For excitement, participation, and fun, the actual version pales in comparison to Madden 2020.  Get all the pros, without the cons.

Alert the crew, I'm out in the burning forest, the Governor is doing a commercial, it's hotter he says, it's wetter he says, it's somebody's fault he cries.  The implication, supposedly, is that it's better to be colder and dryer.  Not so sure about that, but a dry frozen cold is undeniably colder than a wet unfrozen cold.  He's acting like a meteorologist, he's pointing, he's asking questions and answering them himself, he's coughing awkwardly, like it's forced, odd, odd, odd.  Smoke or virus or neither, I wondered.

Crisp Up Those Buns

 

Entirely entranced.  The Chestnut Square Farmer's Market was going on all around.  Too many people, not enough space.  

Melons, onions, tomatoes, okra.  It was all for sale.  Booths and tents and concessions.  

Suddenly, a case of the pandemic panics hit.  Went south for a few Tupps brews.  Clear our heads, regroup.  

Mexican Lager, the Oktoberfest.  Barley burger was delicious.  The way they crisp up those buns.  

Hustled all the way back.  Flying on the downhills.  Like cars.

20/20 Gonzo 56: Downer Beat Down

No one really needs a full time downer around.  Those bummer bums with long, meandering explanations of some personal woe-is-us, some horrible probable outcome, some reason why hope is lost.  Any reason, things just suck and suck, many days they have their worst day ever.  All must know of the down.

Forget the good news, they say, it's not good.  But we know it is good, good news is good news, and good news deniers are downers by definition, clearly.  They seem the definition of downer.  Be an upper, a lifter upper, a proper upper, a shut upper if need be.  Down with the full time downer beat down.

All the gates.  Water gates, Russian gates, sucker gates, Bill Gates.  It's all confusing by design, manipulation of useful idiots, washing, always washing.  Glad those ISIS fuckers aren't cutting heads off Americans on YouTube anymore.  That's good news.

20/20 Gonzo 55: Ski Goggles

 

A weekend mob.  Mom, gonna need a $20, and pack a few Capri-Suns in my backpack, dad said it was fine to borrow his ski goggles.  Relax, Monday's Labor Day, I'll catch up on my rest, sleep late.  No worries on TP, we usually do # 1 on parked cars, and we all do our #2 business in the same spot so the shit hurlers can use it, we got tons of TP.  Its all really organized, oh, gonna need eggs, keep them in the carton for now.  Yes I took my chewable vitamin, yes I packed my blanky, yes I got a lighter, yes I'll cover my face.

Rules are rules, I guess, but discretion is discretion, and the better the discretion, the better off, almost always.  Reckless discretion, and worse--no discretion, is doomed to failure eventually, and nothing is more reckless and feckless than blaming rules when bad decisions are made.  Weak and destructive, cowardly and lame, the opposite of leadership.  Every speeder doesn't get a ticket, every broken city ordinance doesn't get a fine, every illegally parked car doesn't get towed.  Selective application is fine in the money game, it happens, sort of a capitalistic realism, a reasonable waiver, maybe a stern warning could work, a point, a game, or something like a cussing tax, or a frustration tax, but not a default.

Agnostic words like 'y'all', or the magnified 'all y'all'.  A slight head nod and a 'what's up' or 'hey you'.  Keep the male female and female male thoughts, curiosities, and further ramifications to yourselves, there is no reason to know more.  The male males and female females have it easy, that's the truth of it, the honest truth.  Use positive nouns and pronouns, verbs and adverbs, use the adjective and prepositions to describe the wonderfulness of it all, sparsely, with good timing, and common discretion.

20/20 Gonzo 54: Some Something Something

The dumb are back.  Those that say they heard, or heard of someone that heard, or knew, those that know what they're told to know, those that think it's all obvious. They've got the quotes, heard they've got the tapes, in pixels, and sound waves.  Off the cuff, paraphrases, assumptions, and innuendos.  Sources of the traiting kind.

Nose deep in money slop, and kickbacks are down.  The honorable this or that, the esteemed servants, the upholders of freedom, our supposed finest, at senior levels.  Got to have that house on the hill, got to pay some bills, got to get some something something.  That twist and shout, do it like this.  The bribery market has crashed!

The blinking yellow lights demanding 20 MPH maximum speed, local police suburban pulled up on the grassy center median watching out for the safety of the elementary aged road crossers, directing the action, making it all go smooth.  Fond memories, fantastic flashbacks, and DejaVu jolted me all at once.  It had been awhile, this former scene, this former delay, this former normal.  Caution, blink, caution, blink, caution, blink.  Slow down everybody, the future is walking by.   

20/20 Gonzo 53: Echo Style

 

Think of those last days of the poor Branch Davidians, when the cult members bought every last word, to every last drop.  Sad, really fucking sad.  Signed up for peace and love and harmonies, a real wholesome group, supportive and everlasting.  Ignore the creepiness, justify the sickos, embrace the weirdness.  Isolated, manipulated, idiodic.

Everybody nod.  Yes, yes.  I sing this, you sing that, echo style.  Form a line, fist up, why did the chicken cross the road, to get to the other side.  All together now, one, two, three!

Anyway, Novak Djokovic is the greatest male tennis player of all time.  It's true.  We all have our favorites for various reasons from McEnroe to Federer to Yannick to Ashe to Sampras to Boris to Edberg to Pancho to Cash to Nadal to Connors to Vilas to Vitas to Agassi to Wawrinka to Laver to Tennys to Stevie The Grit to Monfils to Nick to Roscoe Tanner.  And others, even Lendl had some fans.  But nobody, I mean nobody, is better at tennis than The Joker.

Lush It Up

Frontal depression from the west.

To cool this late August early morning.

Say that again.

Flashes, like bulbs from Hollowood.

Thunder drowned out with tunes.

Feel it come through.

Radar reveals an assurance of red rain.

Prosper is getting it good.

Tuck the patio tight.

High ceilings worth the view.

Silly little man.

That dude from the Faces.

Who wished he wouldn't have quit.

Regrets are the worst.

The first drop.

Out from the dangerous open sky.

Flying coffee.

Dogs in their inside digs.

And water fell and fell.

Gravity again.

Drenching everything around.

Spooked toads hopping crazily.

Out of control.

Plenty of action with dice chunkers and soldiers.

They don't mind getting wet.

Plants plan to feed the planet.

Lush it up.