Aho the Autumn is upon us. It’s Football Season. We’re at the first point and cusp of Libra, 11 days from Mabon and Feast of the Ingathering. We had NO RAIN for the entire Terrible Summer in Hippie Town and most days hovered above 100 degrees.
The Austin City Limits Music Festival (ACL) opens here this weekend. It can only mean a fuckton-of-traffic nightmare hipster-parade. The bat is hung, I know black magick and I never leave the house w/o my haterblockers. I can handle my trouble, Brother, can you? It’s not too late to pull stakes and head out to the country.
Tahitian Village residents are slated to return home tomorrow, 10am Texas time. When I talked with B.Rawb on Thursday he told me that the Village had suffered the worst of the wildfires that started burning up Texas 10 days ago. The fires are still burning although 70% contained as of this writing. Him&Amy are back home, safe&sound. James too. The fire stopped two miles from the Swamp but wouldn’t have stopped at all had the winds changed from East to West out in Bastrop County. What is that old song about the ghost of the north wind? Well the north wind only FANNED the flames, burning and destroying everything some of B.Rawb’s friends had. 1,554 homes burned to the ground, lost forever in the days since flashpoint in the Lone Star State. Thankfully, Saints B.Rawb&Amy and Baby James are safe&sound out at the Swamp. (Studio the cat and all their critters,too.)
I rode out to Giddings, TX on Saturday and it was all sun out on the plains, Pilgrim. There was none of the smoke&haze that covers the sky down south. The reasons for my crawl up the Presidential Corridor on the feedstore circuit were not immediately clear to me.
I got lost. I was all the way out at Bastrop County Line, past Friendship Cemetery, killing time with a broken heart. I felt like some desperado Tony Romo out there, with gasmoney&smokes and nothing but Pain on the horizon.
Tony Romo is the reason Dallas lost to New York on Sunday night. Two turnovers turned the game and even a team like the NY Jets can be thrown a bone.
A broken collarbone however, is quite distinct from the many injuries you may suffer as a professional football player in the NFL. This most nasty of breaks sends word to the brain that the body is broken, a bad memory to have for a shy quarterback like “Pretty Boy Roy.”
The Longhorns were able to bring out that bottom-game grit that was so missing Labor Day Weekend, against BYU on Saturday. Their game wasn’t any more flawless than the Cowboys loss but at least they’re hungry and they came out on the green to play. As if the Cowboys losing wasn’t reason enough to celebrate at Bat Manor, the Hundred-Million Dollar Man Michael Vick ruled it against the Rams on Sunday. A G might take my hometown’s Philadelphia Eagles somewhere down Victory Road even if he has to cut through his old stomping grounds of Atlanta next week.
The President dropped his “jobs plan” on us last Wednesday and if it’s good enough for Paul Krugman it’s good enough for me. Krugman doesn’t think it will ever pass Congress though, and I wonder just how ugly&depraved things will have to get out here before the streets are taken.
The Right is scary. You’re late to the party if you’re just realizing that the GOP doesn’t care about you&me Brother; but you weren’t invited anyway. Maybe you liked Bush’s tax cuts early in the Century and you didn’t want to know that by preemptively striking Iraq he was setting the stage for unprovoked War Anywhere In The World and w/o just cause. You should be ashamed of yourself. I am nothing if not a compassionate human being however and my friends’ girlfriend does the hiring at Home Depot. Why don’t you get a job? You look terrible and all yr patriotic posting on Facebook changes nothing and only causes me pain me in my balls.
I know your kind. You’re like my mom’s X husband: dumb as a box of nails and harder to kill than a hillbilly from New Jersey.
Wit yr bitchslap rappin and yr retard strength, God&Rick Perry are on YOUR side, so go get back in the Game. It’s Nutters Rule out there. You’ll do fine in the New Century.
Aho! it’s Autumn in the New Century, when radio, newsprint and Football games inundate us and manufacture our consent for more War. For More War. Let him die indeed.
Shame on you if you participated in this Schadenfreude. The dead were listening as you called out their names irreverently, repeatedly on Sunday. I was alone at Penthouse Pool all day, smoking in the shade and plugged in to the Mobile Area Media Unit(MAMU).
Death is the only escape. At any point in the Game you can stop caring like I did, but its Lonely at the top, Brother. There’s a white Sun in Virgo out there, cooler and a tad pale but harder on the eyes and the only rain is the chemical kind.
Me&the Ranger will be kickin out the Night Jams. We’ll shut down Indian Summer and get on with it. A little bit of Winter is what this town needs. Half the house will have to come down but the Stubborn&the Strong will have to lose it All before we again find the conviction of a Fool.
We’re twice burned, thrice bitter.
Meán Fómhair Alban Elfed
Death to the Minutes.
Going for the Throat 