Serfs up!

Albuquerque shows its small-d democratic contempt for the royal pain in its ass.

O, the hate, terror, and anarchy were fierce Saturday at the No Kings thing down on Central.

We saw young and old and in between; placards, flags, and banners; bicycles, scooters, and wheelchairs; T. rexes, frogs, and Statues of Liberty; walkers, talkers, and watchers. The odd pooch delivered a few remarks. No, not me — actual dogs of various breeds and temperaments.

“Liberty, autonomy, equity.” Sounds good to me.

At least one drone was aloft to document the sheer size of us. I don’t use Facebook, so if this link doesn’t work for you feel free to blame that putz Suckerberg. The local blat went with “thousands,” so as an old inkstained wretch naturally I’ll accept that as gospel.

It wasn’t much of a story, but a crash shut down I-25 near the Lead-Coal exit just as the march got under way and I expect the weekend crew at the Journal was busier than Rep. John Block of Alamogordo, who, when asked to comment for no good reason of which I can think, immediately stuffed both feet into his mouth — no easy thing, even for a Republican, because his piehole was up his asshole with the rest of what I assume is his head, if only for the position it occupies at the top of his neck.

But I digress. We were talking about hate, terror, and anarchy, yes?

I saw one hateful sign. I’ll confess it made my top-10 list. It read: “Hey, Trump, I’m not getting paid to be here. I hate you for free.”

While we’re in the confessional, I’ll also cop to hating the “Hey hey, ho ho” chant. We haters, terrorists, and anarchists need more poets on the front lines.

Hamas never showed. Well, I remember when Dan Fogelberg didn’t show to open for the Eagles at Red Rocks, so it ain’t like they were getting a cherry. Instead we got Tom Waits, who just happened to be in town and available. No, not in Albuquerque — at Red Rocks.

I did see one dude wearing a black bandana as a mask. Could’ve been an anarchist, I suppose. Maybe just a victim of late-stage capitalism and fall allergies, like me.

The dude waving the anarchy flag, now, he might have been the real deal. Looked to be a solo act, which is a dead giveaway. But it was a really pro-looking flag, which implies some degree of organization.

“We don’t kneel down.”

I should’ve snapped a pic but you don’t want to be taking surreptitious photos of anarchists, even if you’re wearing a red Marx Brothers T-shirt (Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Karl). That’s just the sort of shit an elderly undercover cop would wear. Yeah, that old dude, over there, with the yin-yang earring, Ray-Ban shades, and Carhartt boonie hat.

The local Democratic Socialists of America chapter was supposed to be in attendance, but I didn’t see them. The Party for Socialism and Liberation was very visible, right up front, as they have been at previous smash-the-State gatherings.

Mayor Keller was there, as were other political types shilling for various candidates. But mostly the crowd was regular joes and janes like Herself, Your Humble Narrator, and a friend and neighbor, all of us marching counterclockwise around downtown Duck! City, (nothing but left turns, natch), chatting and chanting, singing and dancing, gleefully asserting our rights as citizens, not subjects.

The only royalty we saw was a family trooping along wearing cardboard crowns from a well-known burger joint. It’s not for me, but hey, this is still a democracy. Anyway, the Burger King is miles better than that tinpot tsar who thinks he’s the big cheese. Cheaper, less greasy, and easier to dispose of once you’re sick of it.

Today’s forecast: A hard rain

Oh, boy, it’s gonna be fun driving a high-profile vehicle on the I-5 in California today as the 155mm artillery rounds from Camp Pendleton sail overhead.

The good news is, it should be awful quiet at the National Nuclear Security Administration come Monday. Or so we may hope, anyway.

Some people voted for this shit. I sure hope they like the taste.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Orange crush

Happy Indigenous Peoples’ Day to Tommy Orange.

Since Tommy Orange scored himself a MacArthur Foundation award I’ve been rereading his 2024 novel “Wandering Stars,” the followup to his 2018 breakout hit “There There.”

The MacArthur people call it both “a sequel and a prequel” to the previous work, and it’s not a lazy bedtime read. The first pass through I found myself speedreading it, a vile habit I can’t seem to shake. It’s like driving the interstate instead of William Least Heat-Moon’s blue highways. You get where you’re going, but you miss a lot of scenery.

Now I’m taking my time and enjoying it more. Orange, a native of Oakland, Calif., and an enrolled member of the Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribes of Oklahoma, covers a lot of territory as he takes us back and forth in time, from the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 to the echoes of the climactic gunfire in “There There.”

With one eye on another orange tale-teller I found one passage particularly apt for Indigenous Peoples’ Day.

Opal Viola Bear Shield, who is on the lam for a number of reasons — no spoilers here, read the book — is giving her unborn child a Cheyenne perspective on dogs, white people, and bloodlines (the child’s father is half white, and a white family’s dog, Cholly, is on the lam with them).

He’s one of these mutts you don’t know what kinds of breeds are in him and you don’t much care because he seems all his own in the eyes. Well he’s only got the one eye, but it’s got more life in it than I’ve seen in some men with two. And I’ve seen worse men than those with no life in their eyes. It’s worse when they know what they want and they’re hungry for it, white men in this country, they come to take everything, even themselves, they have taken so much they have lost themselves in the taking, and what will be left of such a nation once they are done?

Freecipitation

Splish, splash, etc.

What a gloomy day. The ceiling is all the way down to the deck and the drizzle is intermittent. Reminds me of Oregon, only without all the ICEholes and Natural Gourds wandering around, growing fungus in their footwear and moss on their north sides.

Ordinarily I’d slip out for a jog between sprinkles, but I’ve already logged two 5K runs this week and fear a third would leave me a smelly puddle of tears, shredded connective tissue, and bone splinters.

Still, slouching around indoors muttering over the news ain’t no day at the beach neither.

That Tennessee explosives factory? Holy hell.

Public “servants” trying to suppress free speech? Par for the course. Public excoriation for thee, but not for me. Shove the First Amendment right up their fat asses by attending your local No Kings! rally on Oct. 18.

Government employees being shown the door because … well, because Rumpleshitskin likes it? Remember his two-word catchphrase from the unreality show he keeps reliving over and over and over again in the throes of his growing dementia. He’s a man of few words, because he can only remember a few, and can pronounce even fewer.

And to top it off I’ve got one lonely, disheveled hummingbird parked at the backyard feeder, like the old soak lost in thought who just can’t seem to hear the phrase, “Last call. …”

Just another manic Monday

“Will you look at the man? He’s a Freudian delight; he crawls with clues!”

Maj. Whiskey Tango “Foxtrot” Sterno was said to be “crawling out of his skin” as the Warfighter in Chief prepared to address the brass hats he has ordered to assemble like so many raw recruits, reminding us not only of “The Caine Mutiny” but also “Lost Weekend.”

OK, so it’s The Daily Beast riffing on a piece from the Daily Mail. Not exactly the Word of God. But I’ll take good news wherever I can find it, especially on a Monday.

Speaking of good news, the clock is ticking to the first shutdown of the federal government in nearly seven years. This has been the goal of the Repuglicunts for as long as I can remember, which hardly makes it breaking news. But this time, who knows? It could stay shut down this time, and the generals and admirals would all have to travel back to their assignments via private transpo ho ho ho ho ho.

There will always be money to blow shit up, government or no government. But I wouldn’t want to be hanging by my nutsack waiting on a Social Security check.