Sources Say 5: The Fool's Century

 

On the inside it's uglier than most can imagine.  Scandal, cover ups, hook ups, and pick-me-ups.  No telling what kinda narcotics float around, pill to pill, shot to shot, dose to dose, a pharmaceutical disaster.  Like Elvis without any music or Chuck Berry without any moves or Bruce Lee without any kicks or Speedy Gonzales without any speed.  Just dizzy, slurring pigment obsessed drunks, sources say.

What does CBS stand for anyway?  Doesn't matter now, they've become irrelevant, a bleak reminder of last century.  The fool's century.  Duped and looped.  Now we know.

We started in around the late 40's, picking fights, manipulation, sinister and crude.  Stealthy.  Spies with eyes in the skies.  Peace was never kept, it was invaded.  America was a TV show on CBS.

Dallas Open Gonzo 11: Vantaggio Day

 

Vantaggio Day at the Dallas Open began with a late morning breakfast at Cafe De Brazil.  Located across the highway from the event, its proximity and excellent breakfast offerings made it the perfect meet up place.  King The Todd, People's Duke, Keck, King James, they were all there when I arrived.  Bourbon pecan coffee, omelettes, crepes, empanadas, sweet potato fries, grilled breads, hash brown casserole, it was delicious.  Discussions of crypto markets, moon landings, portfolio theory, and spies, nothing about the Super Bowl or the Grammys or the Vanderpump Rules.

Then, we loaded up the cars, opened the sun roofs, and cruised to the streets of Highland Park to park.  Found a sweet spot on St. Johns, not too far from Beverly Drive.  It's likely the locals encouraged next year's move north to Frisco, probably bankrolled it, Jerry Jones lives around here.  Either way, the homes are incredible, the yards are brilliant, and I tried to pick up some loose litter whenever I could these past 3 years.  Trashy people suck the most, pick up your trash, fools.

Anyway, quarters Friday was a hot, melting blast.  Between Tommy Paul playing Top 10 tennis, Ben Shelton's comeback 3 setter, Giron destroying Tiafoe, and Mannarino taking care of business, we experienced the final days of the Dallas Open experience in Dallas in style.  With new agreements about future Vantaggio roles, the emergence of a Fractional CEO, and weak competition like Capelli Sports, '24 and beyond could be huge for the tennis brand enigma.  We got colors that pop, as the song goes, we got grand slams, we got wristbands, we got tennis fans, and on and on, man. Went a solid 2-2 with my quarters picks---thinking Shelton loses to Paul, and Giron loses to Mannarino in the semis, trust me, take it to the bank, Vantaggio.

Dallas Open Gonzo 10: Surrounded By Winners

 

All of them have dangerous opponents, the top 4 seeds through to the final 8, it's Friday, Quarters Day at the Dallas Open:  Paul and Koepfer, Shelton and Thompson, Tiafoe and Giron, Mannarino and Duckworth.  All the others just weren't up to it, not this week.  This week all the others lost, for various reasons, in various ways.  They'll be more losing to come, but for now, for this entire morning, we're surrounded by winners.  Then, it'll be 2 o'clock, when the losing starts again.

As a tennis observer, journalist, and fanatic, it's important to be on record, create a bit of credibility, predict.  All you tennis gamblers get ready, I'm a minor clairvoyant, take note.  Koepfer loses to Paul due to flying his backhand on big points, Thompson loses to Shelton because he can't handle the serve, Giron loses to Tiafoe in a classic 3 setter, and Mannarino loses to Duckworth in a beat down.  Take all that to the bank, trust me, I've done lots of analysis since I stupidly picked Brooksby over Opelka in the '22 Dallas Open final.

Uomosport Inc. was on the brink then, they had a winner on the horizon.  He wore their $135 shorts with gold tipped drawstrings.  Then an injury, then a this, then a that, then an 18 month doping suspension from the International Tennis Integrity Agency (ITIA), then poof, Jensen Brooksby can't play professional tennis until January 2025.  Explains alot, Uomosport isn't even here this year, no apparel, no wristbands, no models, no nothing.  With that, take my predictions with a gulp of coffee, getting wired for the Quarters, let's do it.

Dallas Open Gonzo 9: Mindless Waveless Thoughts

 

The walk up seemed different this year at the Dallas Open.  Melancholy and nostalgic, familiar and quaint.  This neighborhood is getting back to normal soon, thanks for the hospitality.  Gone to Frisco, but not yet.  Tennys Sandgren was warming up on the Grandstand side court, he was about to play Marchenko, these veterans were playing to get into the main draw, this was serious, desperation tennis, all business, all glares, all in.

Sandgren looked more ripped than the 2018/19 version when he was at the top of his game, making noise in Grand Slams and ranked in the mid 40's.  And leaner somehow, maybe a late career 3 or 4 year run, show some rooks the way, grab a title or two, get back to top 50.  I sat courtside and watched the whole match.  Marchenko looked like an NFL player, big, broad, and strong, he belted the ball.  There were distractions of all types, Tennys noticed them, he acknowledged them, he pointed at them, he overcame them, he used them, he ate them.

Finally, over two hours later, Sandgren came away with a hard fought straight sets win.  Next for him is Alex Michelsen, a 19 year old ranked #75 in the world, an up and comer.  I'm pulling for Tennys, the buffet ain't closed yet, it's time for him to eat.  Beers are $13 this year, up from $12, the main entrance is closed, the vendors have abandoned the place, a few fewer bathrooms were brought in, the practice courts are off site, something's missing, a sparkle, a spirit, a polish, I just don't know.  Tripping Daisy sang it best, "Trip along, my mindless waveless thoughts they carry on."

Dallas Open Gonzo 8: No Dinky 250

 

Weird not having Wu in the draw.  The defending champion of the Dallas Open was not defending his title and points.  Sources indicate any returning champ stays at John Isner's house, eats John Isner's food, and drives John Isner's Cybertruck.  It made no sense, there wasn't much Wu news in the news.  Hopefully, he's fully recovered from his on court collapse this past summer.

He'll be missed, Wu was spectacular last year.  Probably the best tennis ever played in the history of the Dallas Open.  Some would argue the Isner/Opelka match in '22, which featured the longest tiebreaker in ATP history, was compelling, but it was not.  Some would say Fritz, but he seemed to use Dallas as practice, he never even made the final here.  He's out this year, went Top 10 ranking, went big time, Fritz ain't playing in no dinky 250.

Frances Tiafoe (15), Tommy Paul (16), Ben Shelton (17), Adrian Mannarino (18) are the favorites.  Eubanks, Wolf, Giron, and a few others could break through.  Gonna enjoy the final year in Dallas, on scene, on the hill, throughout, and about.  We thank the neighbors in advance, our street parking is only for a few days, our presence is temporary, we'll be on our best behavior.  Next year, it's off north to Frisco to accommodate a 500 point tournament, maybe Fritz will play.

Sources Say 4: Very Punk

 

Recently, a self proclaimed Top 10 mind and writer in the world prohibited me.  Blocked like a rag doll for inquiring on his most famous quote.  Thin skinned cigar smoker, sources say.  I felt it was a layup, a chance for him to brag, he'd already bragged so much.  Share your most famous quote, I was caught up in it, pass on your eloquent wisdom.

The blocking made me curious, let's see what he had, and I found some solid quotes-- 

1.  "No need to be nasty."

2. "Ego is real, and I’ve been dealing with the mofo a lot recently."

3.  "Just walk bro." 

Nothing that great, honestly, certainly nothing as brilliant as "Nothing inspires forgiveness quite like revenge," from S. Adams, a bon-a-fide Top 10er. Spent almost 5 minutes researching I was so curious.  Overall, it doesn't matter, we all got wisdom and minds and words to write.  Told you so is for the told you so's.  Somewhat like gnats, that irritating buzz.

My mind and writing is only Top 10,000 or so, but I'm self taught and write in my own 3x5 Method.  Wonder if that Top 10 dude ever invented his own writing method.  Either way, I dug my own quotes better than his-- 

1.  "Only a new day has meaning, and everything that follows."

2.  "Note the eyebrows if you need a place to start."

3.  "A sad, sad thing to see the transformation of the old Denison Tennis Club into a church."

Like being banned, the blocking is an honor, it really hits nice, especially by someone so smart and accomplished.  Very punk.

 

Sources Say 3: Privileged Quaker Bastard

 

They all gathered in a corner office on the administrative floor of the Humanities wing.  The privileged were instructed to stay away.  Forbidden, in fact.  Only the unprivileged could attend.  The people that have been given nothing, unknown or known. 

No dudes, of course, or anyone of middle age.  Straight folks were out, something about cisgender, whatever that is, owning people were out, too.  I scratched my head, now I was just curious, my gonzo instincts clicked in like a 100 watt bulb.  I was gonna get into this meeting, undercover if I had to, on the sly.  I had to invoke my probable Kickapoo blood, walk with a limp, and speak broken, girly English, but the suckers let me in the door.  Surprised they fell for my black braided wig, but they seemed really gullible and dumb, it was easy.

Almost blew my cover when I said we should start with a prayer, but I caught myself and clarified to start with a dare.  It was on!  The five young, poor, unprivileged women started flipping and flopping and groping and grabbing.  It was craziness, they planned a Hamas massacre celebration march for the next day.  I bolted quick, before the groping and grabbing, but sources say the ritualistic meeting got weirder and more sinister, evidently they even burned a picture of Johns Hopkins himself to close, that "privileged Quaker bastard!"

Sources Say 2: They Miss The Ink

 

Related to manipulation abuse, but with a capitalistic twist.  They are paid by the manipulators and the victims of manipulation.  It's a winning business model until the walls come crumbling down on the street, until the curtains pull back.  You thought Oz was bad, at least they got you back to Kansas.  These journal jerks got nothing.

Even a few of my sources have moved on, the wreck has left the place dim and disgruntled.  Evidently, what's-her-name stormed out of a staff meeting in tears, mumbling something about pills and booze and karaoke night.  Guess it didn't go well.  Everyone laughed at her when she left the room, seems a real toxic work environment.  They miss the ink.

But that won't stop them from cheering on China, and for good reasons.  Ask the finance department.  Money's money, honey, and they got the name, the bull statue, the cufflinks.  They got smear jobs, insinuations, and an editorial board.  Somewhat mobbish, if the mob was a bunch of silly preppies.

Rocket Ride

 

If you're gonna get in on that rocket ride.

Gotta get rid of that hedging mind.

Cash out half a few years from here.

Keep half forever, leave it to your dears.

Avoid the news, don't even sign in.

Just make you confused, it's a lion's den.

Tell you all about how the stock's 'bout to tank.

While buying it cheap with money from the bank.

They'll make you buy it high.

Sell it low.

The game is in your head.

All you gotta do is hold.

This supports this and that resists that.

Drawing those lines on the technical map.

Might win a few, might cash some checks.

But one day soon they'll slash your neck.

They make the markets, they make 'em go.

All they wanna do is steal your gold.

They'll take your debt, they'll take your fees.

They'll leave you begging on your knees.

Sources Say 1: Loose Druggies

 

The Wall Street Journal Headquarters has been gassed with a gas that limits seeing, hearing, and speaking.  Evil, and otherwise.  Some are worried this will render them worthless.  Many think they already are worthless.  Surely, they are a net negative to the overall American scene, they should be closed.

Sell your data in a heartbeat, and charge you a subscription fee.  The screws only begin when you sign in, the rest is for your mind, a helping of manipulation.  Sell low, buy high.  Laugh when they cry, frown when they smile.  Upside down and easy.

Common dirt diggers now, thinking they are part of the story.  Full of loose druggies, probably.  The worst kind of druggies.  Wall Street is a figment, a whiff, an oily smell.  A hole, sources say.

Infested Room At The Hyatt

 

Watch for roaches at the Hyatt.

Looks like they're having a riot.

Think twice before you buy it.

Infested room at the Hyatt.

Thought this place was kinda nice.

Should be, according to the price.

The owner must be kinda tight.

Gets his kicks on island flights.

Watch for roaches at the Hyatt.

Looks like they're having a riot.

Think twice before you buy it.

Infested room at the Hyatt.

Woody Guthrie's List

 

1. Work more and better

2. Work by a schedule

3. Wash teeth if any

4. Shave

5. Take bath

6. Eat good — fruit — vegetables — milk

7. Drink very scant if any

8. Write a song a day

9. Wear clean clothes — look good

10. Shine shoes

11. Change socks

12. Change bed cloths often

13. Read lots good books

14. Listen to radio a lot

15. Learn people better

16. Keep rancho clean

17. Dont get lonesome

18. Stay glad

19. Keep hoping machine running

20. Dream good

21. Bank all extra money

22. Save dough

23. Have company but dont waste time

24. Send Mary and kids money

25. Play and sing good

26. Dance better

27. Help win war — beat fascism

28. Love mama

29. Love papa

30. Love Pete

31. Love everybody

32. Make up your mind

33. Wake up and fight

---Woody Guthrie, 1/1/1942

Those Space Notes

 

Where to start?  Get better soon, Ray McCarthy.  You were kinda missed, but we made sure you were near, with a mugshot pasted on the left speaker stand, off to the side.  Joe Vanzant got his keys pedal going and filled in like a professional.  Only a 10 minute drive for him, he's practically a 177er now.  Adopted as their own.  Chris Allen brought the five strings of bottom and boomed the top of the red barn clean off.  The balcony patrons shivered.  Bill Bachman brushed aside the mute monitors and banged and brushed and cleaned off every tune like a Bachman should.  His grandfather, inventer of the 33rpm record, is tapping his toes somewhere, somehow.  He knows technology.  The Sing Bats arrived right on time and sang like they must've been from space. Effortless and flowing, like space women almost. Those space notes. Finally, and with more appreciation than the rest, our band leader, Mike Lowery.  His Evil Ways is still being discussed in local coffee shops and hardware stores.  Good God, man!  All that after serving us as roadie, soundboard guy, booking agent, and mayor of CR 177.  Thanks, Mike.  It was a blast, a blast off.  Go easy on the resolutions, something small and specific, or none at all.

Thanks, Space Dust Band.

p.g.

The Great Wake 100: Dogs Are Fed Up

 

Mutter all you want, these things move where they will.  Like continents, only countries and cultures.  We woke ourselves to a new reality, color explosions and razor thin skin.  It's too bad, chuckling and joshing each other was a blast, roasting was an art.  Things just don't seem funny anymore.

I blame myself and God and the devil, of course.  Only perspective can change, the thing is the thing, uncontrollable as ever, a glowing pixel screen, a mighty megaphone, follower bots and ranters.  Get to a million and you can be somebody, those days are over.  For real.  For real for real.

Because dogs are fed up, our attentions have been taken.  Cats, too, probably.  I wouldn't know, actually, they might not care.  Either way, enough is enough.  Let's all nap in the quiet, it's been a great wake.

The Great Wake 99: Paragraphs Of Five

 

It's up for grabs every day and night, free will is real, although most don't recognize it.  Fate plays it's part, but these are problems we encounter, big and small.  If we want to.  And here, it gets dicey.   It's hard, we're removed, we're living our lives, going round and round, and spinning.

Looking out my window now, so calm and peaceful, words effortless, sentences seamless, paragraphs of five.  The Great Wake was inevitable, America doesn't sleep in, usually.  We got drugged somehow.  Manipulated and done wrong, prolly slipped it in our drinks, like the Dallas bartenders do.  They hate you when they look at you like they hate you.

Splash your face!  Do some jumping jacks, move around.  Then sit still and take a hundred deep breaths.  Think of space, we have never been at this place before, but don't think too long.  It'll make you crazy.

The Great Wake 98: Cream Crop Standards

 

The smartest of the cream crop got tricked so easily.  Time to reevaluate our cream crop standards.  Perhaps it was stirred too much, or too little.  Either way, our academic institutions have failed to cultivate and prepare the current batch properly, depending on what the context is or is not.  They giggle under their breath when they hate.

The Deplorable States Of America seem chill to me, especially out in the country.  Never better.  The beaches are still hitting nice, the quiet rolling hills of parks and golf courses, the laughter of people doing their people things.  Many birds fly south in the winter, they love it down here.  Get away from the grumps near the brain numb, dead, and snooty Ivy league.

The mocking will continue, the satire will expose them. The hypocrites will whine, like hypocrites do, depending on the context of what is or is not, anyways.  They do hate you with that look that looks like they hate you.  Usually, for your pigment tint, but it goes deeper.  They know not what they do, it's all been finished.

The Great Wake 97: Enemies Of Saying

 

The enemies of saying are all around.  The offended, the frail, the waxy ears of hearing.  The burnt eyes of the uncomfortable, the truth hurts to read and see.  Even grey area is too much, the enemies of saying have no nuance, no understanding, they have below average grey matter. Their skin is sensitive and paper thin.

But it's all fine, time will tick anyway, this thing doesn't go on forever.  Talk yourself out, but save some for later.  There is much we don't know, our intelligence is miniscule.  Discovery is finding out, like archeology, it was there all along.  Inventions, too.

Ultimately, we know the end is near, but we know nothing about it.  Thank God for faith and hope, otherwise, shutter the thought.  Give up, worry no longer.  It's the most destructive state of mind, with it's sleeplessness and doom. Jus' saying.

The Great Wake 96: Despite The Bullhorns

 

Ungratefulness is predominant, even Thomas Jefferson can't catch a break.  America was an illusion of an idea all along, unless our charity is needed, or our blood, or our smarts, or our music.  All that was real, it was glorious and tangible.  And now we have arrived at now, and now we have a problem.  We got no fight.

Despite the marches, despite the flags, despite the bullhorns.  That ain't fighting.  Flimsy patriotism and common greed, equity obsession and resentment, moron inclusion and IQ diversity.  Dumb it down.  Just do it, where's the beef, 7-11 is making a big comeback.

Make it all up, Jefferson did, but he was looking into the future, he manifested, he knew destiny.  These ungrateful, dim, depressing, do-nothings.  They are in control now.  Inevitably, the meek inherit what they do not deserve.  And, also inevitably, the brave wake and take it back.

Fever Of The Moon

 

Can't believe Jimmy Buffett died.

Eating cheeseburgers in paradise.

Still got those island tears in my eyes.

Can't believe Jimmy Buffett died.

Can't believe Charlie Watts is gone.

Drummed on every Rolling Stones song.

The rhythm section never went wrong.

Can't believe Charlie Watts is gone.

Wish Merle Haggard was still around.

Missed him when he last came to town.

His mamma cried when they put him down.

Wish Merle Haggard was still around.

Just go Tom Petty, leave us too soon.

Went solo, caught the fever of the moon.

Find Nelson and Lefty, play some Wilbury tunes.

Just go Tom Petty, leave us too soon.

CFGC

FFCC

GCFC

CFGC

Filled With Spacefolk

 

Prepared for months and weeks.

Every note, every tune, every detail.

Meticulous.

The Silverleaf of Dan.

All the lights, all the sound, on the marquee.

Nantucket ride.

No stopping now, sailor.

Write the words, write the chords, write the tap tap.

Melodical.

Hunter S Thompson room.

Filled with tunes, filled with art, filled with spacefolk.

Those Frisco nights.

Fantastic Sudden Recognition

 

None of this is serious,

Loafing has no future.

The irrelevant fellow,

Decorations.

The artist opens eyes,

And the nature of sound.

Find your own mantra,

Chant like you like.

Read this fine cosmology book,

Why this idiocy.

Like children making faces,

Absolutely absurd.

This babbling Hindu sound.

Out of their heads.

Fantastic sudden recognition,

Getting hung up and hooked.

Classical music of India,

No legs being pulled.

Everything is meaningless,

The rhythm of life.

Like the branches of a fern,

Level it proper.

We're all leaning on each other,

One way or the other.

*Notes on an Alan Watts lecture.

Tater Tot

 

Think I met a tater tot.

Mighta been a glowing bot.

They cried and whined and talked alot.

But they made no sense.

Said they wanted love and peace.

But they couldn't keep the beat.

Seems like they still got their baby teeth.

Their small minds are dense.

Don't tell me about their skin.

Thinner than it's ever been.

Come on, give me an Amen.

Tater tots can't take a joke.

They deserve it all.

The mocking and the cat calls.

Grow a pair of balls.

I'll end it on that note.

CCDGx3.GC

The Great Wake 95: Wink Winks

 

As a one issue voter, Erwin Park must remain whole.  Loopholes, kickbacks, and wink winks aside, this is an essential municipal necessity.  Creekfront, Lakefront, Northside, Southside, The Jungle.  All of it.  Nothing we can do about the bulldozed century old trees.

Happenings must be made transparent.  What, why, and what happens now?  Elections matter, the yard signs, the street signs, the suburban corners of red, white, and blue signs.  A captive audience.  The winners are our leaders, they are the city.  

Run with it, know all about it, build upon the builders of the past.  Wheel, deal, make it real.  Parking garages, custom houses, acres and acres of land.  Carve it up, wish you good luck, make some money if you can.  Wolves will howl, dogs will bark, keep your hands off Erwin Park.

The Great Wake 94: Time Is A Stalker

 

The last of the Sri Lankan chutney was delicious, cinnamon is the spice of life.  Like butter for the New York Strips.  The season is upon us, watch for sales and free delivery days.  Take a break from the spooky and scary, the sky falls every day and night, regardless.  Time is a stalker.

Wineries are the new ranches in Texas, profits are hard fought and subsidized.  The swag business is usually the money maker.  Trinkets.  No sighting of Willie or Waylon or The Boys, but Fredericksburg is a fine place to wear a fine hat.  The outlaws cleared out, went to Austin or Nashville to fake it, then make it.

The wine was good, no sugar, all earth, the only wine worth drinking.  "Getcha some Mad Dog if ya wanna get smashed!".  Hold on to the good times, make them last and last, pause. Tanya Tucker knew all about Ridin' Rainbows in '77, left her lonely.  Vinyl hits different somehow.

The Great Wake 93: Jerky And Seeds

 

Laughing while relaxing away the morning.  Anxiety must be combated.  Only a temporary diversion from the reality of our times.  The gloomy and doomy, the pessimistic, the down.  Living inside a video game, waiting on our turns.  

Charge up your laser beams, your gonna need 'em.  Lighthouse communications and code, radio waves and bicycle messengers, The Trek Express.  Lock blades at the ready, helmets on, protect yourselves.  Probably should go tubeless, thorns and shattered glass and stickers.  Spend your nights near the creeks, their echoes will carry.

Canned food is overrated, dehydrate.  Lighter, better, easier.  Complications should be minimized.  Corn ain't gonna keep you alive.  Jerky is what the mountain people eat, jerky and seeds.

Blasted Town

 

When golden years turned to stolen years and your eyes turned away.  After afterglow went on the the road and we woke up in a daze.

All the while, we've been wasting miles, should've been set free.  Since that time, a few minor crimes, nothing that made you bleed.

From here, who knows, a single rose, I'm lost in this blasted town.  Not much for casinos, chess, or bingo, guess I'll just get on down.

DCGC/GCG