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

Join the party!

No kings since 1776!

Every emperor deserves a rebellion, and this is ours — a chance to show His Excremency and the dung beetles greedily eyeing his six that some of us won’t eat what he’s serving. Let’s preempt his must-see TV for a few hours. It’ll still be about him, of course — but he won’t like it, not one little bit.

You can find your local gathering at the No Kings website. Let’s get ready to grumble!

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. …”

Battle lines being drawn

It was a hot time in the old town at the No Kings rally.

We had just found a small patch of shade at the No Kings rally when Herself showed me the first reports of the assassinations in Minnesota.

Another psycho with a gun.

The first one I can remember was John F. Kennedy. I was nine. Next was Malcolm X. Then Martin Luther King. Bobby Kennedy. Fred Hampton. Harvey Milk. John Lennon. The list goes on.

Tell you what. This sort of thing does not make you feel good about being in a strange place surrounded by people you don’t know, with a DJ working one side of the park and some sort of drum circle going in the other.

Herself caught me looking around and wondered why.

“I’m trying to make sure I know how we can get the hell out of here,” I said.

She thought I meant at the end of the festivities. I was thinking about the beginning of someone’s fantasies.

A young woman came up with a tray of sliced bananas and oranges and asked if I’d like something.

“No, I’m good,” I replied. “But thanks just the same.” Head still on a swivel.

I tried to cling to the spirit of the moment — small-d democrats old and young and in between, with imaginative signs and fashion choices, dancing, music — Sly and the Family Stone’s “Stand,” because of course “Stand” — but it slipped away from me. It was a large park, but a cramped space, with a lot of noise and people milling around and a sound system that was not up to the task.

We about half heard Rep. Melanie Stansbury from the drum circle, then changed locations to see if we could find a better listening post. Nope.

I tapped Herself on the shoulder and gave her the old thumb over the shoulder.

“Ready to beat it? ” I asked. She was. We did.

I’m glad we went. I’d do it again tomorrow. I’ll do it as long as I can still take some hope from it.

Because it beats the mortal shit out of killing people.