Tag: No Kings Day

Freecipitation

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 16 Comments
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

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 28 Comments
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.

Paranoia strikes deep 
Into your life it will creep 
It starts when you’re always afraid 
Step out of line, the men come and take you away

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.

‘Well, I didn’t vote for you. …’

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 2 Comments
A moistened bint and a scimitar do not a king make.

It’s No Kings Day! Well, actually, every day is No Kings Day, or should be.

Nevertheless, here we are, mired in our own filth (bloody peasants!), and a reminder to Certain People is in order.

Don’t torch the nice robots, or anything else. It’s going to be too hot for that sort of nonsense here in any case. Give a thought to the poor sods who have to parade in front of Orange Julius Caesar in our sweltering national capital. As Charles P. Pierce observed yesterday:

All is subtropical and appears fairly normal in anticipation of the March of the Metal Penises Saturday night here in Pyongyang on the Potomac. (By the way, my walk from the Metro to my hotel led me to thinking that agreeing to put the national capital here in exchange for the federal government’s assuming all the Revolutionary War debt may have sounded like a fair deal at the time, but now with June headed full speed into July, Hamilton, Jefferson, and Madison can, you know, bite me.) 

“Bite me” is exactly the message we want to send the Unclothed Emperor via his courtiers in the press, what remains of it. Remind them all wherein the real authority resides, or should. You don’t use it, you lose it, as the fella says.

He likes a big crowd. Let’s give him one. And may he choke on it.

Cowabunga!

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 16 Comments

Hey, kids, why should L.A. have all the fun?

If your idea of “fun” is having Cadet Bonespurs go all Rolling Thunder on you for having an overly noisy barbecue, that is.(Sorry, Waymo.)

“Let a hundred Stooges bloom!” as our Dear Wiseguy, Chairman Moe, has taught us. While that fat toddler plays with his (our!) Army men in DeeCee this Saturday, there will be a No Kings rally in The Duck! City. And judging by the map of scheduled events there is probably one in your neck of the peckerwoods, too.

No torches, no pitchforks — just a nationwide woo woo woo woo woo. A virtual finger-poke in that toddler’s piggy little eyes.

If he tries to get tough we’ll break out the big guns: The Groucho Marxists.

And remember, kids — when you’re smashing the State, keep a smile on your lips and a song in your heart:

Hello … you must be going. You cannot stay, I came to say, you must be going. It was a shame you ever came, you best be going. …