I recently read an article titled ‘The Land No Country Wants to Claim’ by Daniel Ganniger.
As I , like so many other disturbed and, discombobulated American’s, watched the farcical Capitol riot, was struck by some of the statements and, the verbal flatulence, of the rioters. What is called ‘an insurrection’ seems to me, simply a bunch of stupid, almost entirely ‘white’ mob of dumb fuck white trash. They felt entitled to exhibit the worst kind of American ignorance on the World stage. ‘We are White we are Proud we are Patriots! Don’t Tread on My blue suede combat boots.
…
I remember the Parker’s. You cross the creek bout two miles down a dirt road and through the wood. Then you are at the Parker’s house.
I remember the Parker’s outhouse. I remember the smell. I remember the house. Windows with flour sack curtains. Bare bones, wood frame house. No paint. Just wood. Smoke wafting from the wood stove. Mrs. Parker baking biscuits. Front porch screened and shadowy. Crawlspace under. Alien space. Haunted, dark space. Storage, old stuff, to be never resurrected. broken stuff, abandoned. Just buried in dust. Like memories hidden.
I recall Mrs. Parker pumping water outside. Thin…
I grew up with the Rev. Kenneth Copeland. He and I attended the same church. The Church of ‘St. Vitus-Holy Prophet of God Assembly.’ I will always remember this anecdote which he shared. Picture this: The 1880's,Kenny’s Grandpa, ‘Buford Copeland’ is hitching a mule to a buckboard.
He is preparing to retrieve one, ‘Miss Annabelle Bodacious’, this being their first ‘official’ outing during a lengthy courting ritual called ‘The Days of Yearning’ a little known and, practically forgotten ritual. (Except among the ‘Pure of Heart Youth Ministry’ within ‘The Church of St. Vitus-Holy, Prophet of God Assembly.’ …
Could Bruce Springsteen save America? I love good music. Most genres.I really love it when it touches something inside which I can’t verbalize.I am not a musician. So,I will continue, with the disclaimer, I am not a musician nor am I qualified as a critic. Not here for that.
What I need to say is, I am so fucking sad and feel so alone right now. Sorry. I am 72 years old. I was young once. Been awhile. (Funny thing, I still have the same interior life I had in 1973) I don’t believe anyone my age will object to…
A dedicated team is currently vetting and evaluating the potential of a Capt. Crunch/Mr. ‘T’ ticket. Campaign slogan: ‘MACA’ ‘Make America Crunchy Again’ and “ Pity the Fools who vote MAGA.” Mr.’ T was recently interviewed by Sugar Bear, beloved Mascot of Sugar Crunch cereal, Mr. ‘T’ is quoted as saying, “I pity the soggy ass fool who don’t vote. I pity the fool more, who votes MAGA, Fool!.”
This from Official Capt.Crunch news site ‘Crunch Facts’, The Wall Street Journal and Washington Times noted that the three stripes on the mascot’s uniform indicate a rank of Commander rather than…
I remember Summer days,
so lazy,
baseball gloves
fishing poles,
swimming,
Kool-Aid.
The sweetness of the U.S.A.
The smell of Summer ,
in the air.
The Promise.
Life would always…
As long as the vodka lasts,
I will write bullshit..
Drunk or sober,
seems to not matter.
We are all fucked in the same way.
Do you feel it?
do…
Where is your Crypt?
We all have one.
the place where we inter our,
worst memories.
Mine is secret.
As,
is yours.
I only ask,
to remind myself,
we all…
What will your face say,
when you die?
Will it say,
‘A life well lived ‘
Or,
will it lie?
Will you ghost
and haunt ,
will you thrive,
on…
Yeah,
fuck death.
You know it’s there.
So what?
Scream in the night from terror.
who cares?
You are equally,
human.
We are already dead.
Yet we breathe ,
we…
