The Girl with the Drake Tattoo

Makes as much sense an anything else this year

Well damn – only a couple more of these to go and we are done with the year 2011. Onto twenty twelve – is your bunker well stocked and secure? I'm serious, mine is woefully inadequate at the moment, so I am looking for more prepared souls whom I can latch onto When the Shit Hits the Fan (hereafter referred to as WTSHTF, in case I may need to use it later on in this piece). Ah but that's alright, come what may, makes not a bit of difference. Right now I've got a fire going, two lazy dogs trading places beneath my feet, a good looking woman reading a novel on the couch, and a one-third full mug of stiff eggnog; and plenty more where that came from. Live in the moment, and this moment is pretty damn good.

A Bit of Politics

“Seeming to do is not doing.”

-Thomas A. Edison

I can't resist – the longer this Republican race goes on, the less able I am to avert my eyes. It reminds me of Charlie and the Chocolate factory, with all of the candidates riding along and being ejected, one by one, in these increasingly horrifying scenarios. Okay, well, really only Herman Cain has ejected in a truly dramatic fashion thus far – but there are so damned many of them! The potential is there! And then  that humanoid bobble-head “The Donald” comes jamming himself into the picture every so often, making preposterous statements, causing a ruckus, and then disappearing back behind the curtain; probably feeling like some kind of discombobulated Machiavelli. He's amazing though in that he doesn't actually do anything. Then, of course, there is the specter of Sarah Palin lurking back there somewhere. They really ought to just declare the “fuck it” ticket and run a Trump/Palin or vice-versa package. They could pay down the debt by broadcasting a reality television show from the White House – primo advertising; get some Kardashian style money that way. Didn't I mention something about WTSHTF earlier? In the immortal words of George W. Bush: “BRING IT ON!”

Curses and Passion

Oh fuck me. This is not the direction I'd intended to go with this column. But I didn't plan a direction when I started, and so now the energy is just going where it's going. That's what happens when you send energy off unfocused, undirected, leaderless. Passion makes for a great seduction, and passion can lead to a vicious and bloody killing spree. I used to really make a point of not using too much foul language in these columns, but at this point, what's the difference? I mean, some cracked out chick got DRAKE tattooed across her forehead, and some tattoo “artist” was willing to take her money to do that – so what genuine panic is an f-bomb here, or the s-word there, going to create?

There is nothing shocking anymore; not when there is death and mayhem, blood and putrefaction running on the nightly news. The year 2012 is almost upon us and we still haven't figured out how to solve our differences without tearing one another limb from limb. So Merry Fucking Christmas.

Here's an oldie of the author, post holiday panic

madbob@madbob.com

Ho Ho Horror...

Why is there Never a Decent Panic Room Nearby When you Need One?

Okay, okay, let's see. My mind is a spinning whir of mud and mash right now. Between the insane political and economic phase we are in, and the manic holiday climate, it is wine wine wine for me. I hate this time of year - I really do. The holidays freak me out. I mean, I'm limping through the year, barely making the bills, the weather turns cold, I'm drinking more, trying to stay warm, getting desperate for some reprieve. I find myself wandering through the aisles at the 99 cent store looking for anything that will substitute for comfort food, and then the goddamn Christmas music starts playing – so fucking happy, joyous, maniacal. Bells, and choirs, and BELLS. I'm staggering and lurching, knocking over the damned Tupperware and wrapping paper in a panicked frenzy trying to get the HELL OUT OF THERE!!!

Deep breaths - I feel it coming on. I should be listening to calm, soothing music on the radio, but I can't turn away from the endless babble and chatter about the politics. Herman Cain, Herman Cain, Herman Cain. Jesus, the funniest thing I've heard in weeks was Herman Cain saying he was looking forward to “getting back on message.” Jesus. Europe is collapsing. Stock market down, stock market up. Jesus Christ.

OWS Blues

I feel like I'm on the outside looking in with this OWS stuff. I support the movement, for the free exchange of ideas it has generated, if nothing else. I get the general idea – people are fed up with a government that caters to special interests at the expense of the people. I've been upset about that for shit, as long as I've been politically aware. But the OWS movement also disturbs me. It seems like something of a Rorschach test in that it can mean anything to anyone. There are those who simply want to reform the current system of representative democracy, and those who want to abolish everything and start over. I can respect both of those points of view.

And then there are the doomsayers and conspiracy theorists who have latched onto the movement. They offer no solutions, no way forward, simply a myriad of demons and bogeyman that are enslaving us all in insidious, self-defeating webs of deceit and mysticism. These folks will make your head explode. I frankly don't get their way of thinking. If they are right, if we are all pawns in the game of some unseen caste of mystics who have been controlling events since the middle ages, then what the fuck is the point? I'm sure they've got it figured out; or else some tripper hero like Neo from the fucking Matrix will sort it out... or maybe we all are inanimate, living in pods, and being kept alive for feed? Again, what's the point?

I can't let myself believe that kind of stuff. I like solutions, I am a fan of action, and recourse. I like to feel like there is a way forward, a way up, a way out.

But on a serious note, how the hell am I going to get my Christmas shopping done this year?

madbob@madbob.com

Flickering Lights

The days are getting shorter. I'm cold right now. The sun went down about an hour ago and the fire is only beginning to cut through the bite of the encroaching cold air. I'm on the verge of shivers. My wife told me years back that this time of year, starting in around October, and running through, I don't know, about now I guess – it's the time when the worlds of the dead and of the living are in the closest proximity. Of course I could go and throw on a coat. The dogs are fine – they've got their fur wrapped around them. Right now they are prancing around the room and sniffing furiously; then sucking up any morsels of edible and semi-edible objects they discover. They lick at stains. I'm sure we feed them enough. They don't look too thin. I think we all burn more energy out here than we ever used to. The simple act of walking from one end of the property to the other provides exercise like I haven't really had in many, many years – I'm thinking decades.

There's horror on the evening news: footage of violence in Syria as people rise up against the government, folks shot through, bloodied bandages over a hollowed eye, crimson flowers blooming and expanding across polyester/cotton blend fabric shirts. A piece on cancer, the kill or be killed nature of that disease; vicious crimes against children, stories of unanswered pleas for salvation; and profiles of the current crop of political candidates, grinning, manicured ghouls.

God It's a Freak Show

Makes you shudder right down to the bones.

I've got a jacket on now – dogs and I went outside for a bit. We've been talking about post-traumatic stress disorder. It's that loop phenomenon the brain can get into when you've been heavily effected by something done, heard, seen; experienced. Maybe that's trivializing it, I don't think so. Our brains; we are meant to be happy, and harmonious. When things happen that knock us out of harmony, then it sends us off into waves, or loops. Like when you swing your arms for balance. Sometimes you have to keep on swinging.

Dancing around the Apple Tree...

Then this holiday season – it's like on top of everything else they want you to maneuver yourself through an obstacle course of commitments. Battle the crowds, get the gifts together, get them out – the final sputtering, fits and spasms of the year's cycle of consumer capitalism – the chaotic, orgasmic ending – just the post-coital eruption of champagne and high-spirited inebriation of the New Year events left to go.

And then we'll do it all again. One way or the other. We move in circles, not lines. We spin and spin together through this universe (universes? multi-verses?). One big swirling mass – infinite parts and pieces – everything larger, everything smaller, forever and ever.

All we have to do is be. And the good news is, we can't not be. So congratulations! You've done it.

madbob@madbob.com

Information Overload leads to Abandoning the Matrix

It seems like eggnog came early this year. I suppose that is how they would do it – I mean the eggnog industry; they’ve got to be paying attention to this trend of pushing Christmas closer each year to the Fourth of July. I think for awhile I was sort of living under the assumption that there were many out there who are ‘not paying attention.’ I’m realizing now that everyone is paying attention – to something.

There is too much. I’ve made half-dozen false-starts on this column – the reason is too much information: too many scandals, crises, wars, elections, icons passing away, natural disasters, medical mysteries, and financial catastrophes. I don’t know where to start; and once you start in, there’s no natural point at which to stop.

So forget it – by the time you read this, everything will have changed anyway.

I just came back from the yard – the dogs and I walked down to the creek under the light of a bright moon. It isn’t full, but it is on its way up and nearly there. That white light of the moon lights up the whole area, so long as there isn’t interference from artificial lighting. It is cold but not unbearable.

I came back with seed pods attached to my stocking cap. There were two of them, oval-shaped , spiky burrs; reddish-brown. They look a lot like caterpillars and that is what Trish thought they were, at first.

“Bob, there’s something…” but before she could finish, I’d swatted my hat away and flung it towards the fireplace. I guess she was trying to say I should be careful, because of the creatures on my head; but I mistook her to mean there was something terrible climbing over my skull – some kind of treacherous venomous spider, or maybe a radioactive, blood-draining mosquito. I take no chances, not this time anyway.

No harm done, then we figured out what they were – burrs.

I lost track of the days today. I’m in the middle of a longer assignment at my job, and so the activities aren’t varying greatly from one day to the next. If I didn’t have a job to go to, I’d never know what day it was. I might be fine with that. Right now I’m thinking the lunar calendar probably makes more sense anyway. There is nothing physical that signifies the passing of a week – it’s completely arbitrary, just a year broken down into mathematically symmetrical components. Following the sun, or the moon, there you’ve got something very real and tangible to go by.

I’ve got a great big wool coat to wear. It belonged to my grandfather, his army coat from 1945; big leather wrapped buttons and a fine, smooth lining of some material, maybe thick silk – I don’t know. It is stiff and warm, though it’s starting to loosen up. No one wore it for a lot of years; it feels very good to wear it now.  This coat makes me look forward to the colder months of winter. I’m wearing that coat right now – sitting outside on the porch; looking at my breath and typing this out on a lap-top my mom gave me recently. Things are starting to look really good around here.

madbob@madbob.com