The GOP goosesteps into the spotlight this week.
More than three stooges this time, though.
Category: Small hat sizes
Masque of the Read Death
Even if they can’t spell it.
Well.
I’m not sure what he was saying, exactly. But whatever it was, he sure told us.
View, with alarm
of the Sandia Peak Tramway in 2016.
It’s a pretty view, a’ight.
Pretty enough to get me into a Sandia Peak Tram car with 19 other dummies in plague season?
Nope.
I wanna get up there, I’ll ride the ol’ bikey bike up the other side. It’ll hurt like hell, and it’ll take a lot longer than 15 minutes.
But at least I’ll know where I’ve been, and how I got there.
‘La Chingada’
Holy hell. What we have here is what Chazbo Pierce likes to call “a chewy cluster of fk.”
Though there apparently were more cops than Black Bandanas, New Mexico Highly Irregulars, or failed city council candidates at Monday’s Shootout at the Oñate Corral, nobody — the APD, the district attorney, or the state police — seem to have a choke hold on just who did what to whom and why, and what should happen to him. Them. Whatevs. Instead of occupying the moral high ground, they squabble over territory.
Fuck me running. No wonder everyone in this town is packing. Some days it just doesn’t matter if everybody at the dance is a cop except for you and the dude who shoots you. It’s the wild wild West out there.
As Thomas McGuane wrote in “Panama”:
Something about our republic makes us go armed. I myself am happier having a piece wthin reach, knowing if some goblin jumps into the path, it’s away with him. Here in Key West, we take our guns to parties.
Water logged
It rained like a mad bastard here last night, with lightning strikes aplenty and one thunderclap that sounded like the SWAT team triggering a flash-bang before hitting the door.
The weather probably kept the cops and citizens from doing it hand to hand again downtown, as they did on Sunday night. Call me simple, but I don’t see how setting Dumpster fires and trashing the KiMo Theatre advances the Revolution.
Nor do I believe one achieves peace through superior firepower. The Albuquerque Police Department apparently broke out the flash-bangs, tear gas, and rubber bullets in honor of the occasion, saying some miscreant fired on them.
But hey, this is Albuquerque. If you don’t hear gunfire when the sun goes down, that just means everyone’s busy reloading.
The journalism performed in honor of the hullabaloo was so comically inept that it’s hard to get any sense of what actually went down. Much noise, very little signal.
Why, it’s enough to make a fella open up one a’ them whatchamacallits? Social-media accounts! I hear they come with cute kitten videos and everything.
Mad Blog Media 