A Tom Waits Kind Of Sunday

If you like Tom Waits, you have a good jump on what I'm saying. Just one of those lazy, nuthin' to do but watch paint dry kind of Sunday afternoons where you're trying to figure out what to eat that night and stay entertained until a good movie comes on TV or something/anything. I'll take an earthquake ala mode any day of the year, f'er Chrissakes. Anything but this slug line of boredom and wondering what all the Church People might be up to. Speaking of which...

A Truly Lunatic State Senator from Snowflake, Arizona (Where most people are either Mormons (Jack or not), Idiots, Drunk, or getting ready to blow themselves up in their sixth grade science project style Meth Lab) has suggested that the state declare mandatory religious service for all citizens of that already sufficiently batshit nuts state. I'm not even going to glorify her by mentioning her name. I mean, come on...Ya' got Sheriff Joe Arpaio and that goofball "puts her makeup on with a snow shovel" Lady Governor already. What's next? An American version of Sharia Law? (That's right, I said it.) Compulsory Hitler Youth Style uniforms  for all students in Public Schools and awarding "A's" in Science class for kids that actually believe that Earth is 6,000 years old and that humans rode dinosaurs like Roy Rogers?

T-Rex woulda' made Roy toss his salad before biting his head off while eyeballing Dale with bad intent.

Which might (or might not) lead us onto some really weird byline about Space Aliens delivering Golden Tablets to some hick farmer in New York, leading to Magic Underwear, Group Sex Marriages, Baptising The Dead, Faked Indian Wars, etc.. or something equally as weird. Been there, seen that. I lived in Salt Lake City, Utah for awhile. After living in Park City, Utah, home of the U.S. Ski Team and all manner of Hedonistic debauchery to be enjoyed in that "Set Your Watch Back 50 Years At The Border" state, SLC was a real bummer. The Skinny Tie Bicycle Boys knew better than to come to my apartment doors at least. A sign with something like: "Missionaries, Piss Off. I know what you did to the Pacific Islanders." went on the door(s) late Saturday night and came down before Monday morning. There was, despite popular opinion outside of the state, a thriving "Backlash Counter Culture" going on there as well. Lots of Artists, Musicians, Weirdos, Party Animals, on and on the list could go.

O.K., so, forget the Golden Arches, I mean Tablets. Forget Moroni blowing a Charlie Parker solo from the top of the Grand Temple. Ain't gonna' happen so there's no use even imagining it. People that have been blinded by Dogma and intoxicated by regimen, a false and ritualized Normalcy and routine are already in their own "Personal Version Of Hell." Just don't invite the rest of us in for your party. Not when the price of  admission is no less than 10% of one's ostensibly immortal Soul.

I got stuck hitchhiking in Strawberry, Arizona, once. The Town Sheriff, who also owned the town laundromat, let me sleep next to the dryers in back. The drunk locals were taunting me as they exited the town pub and it might have become ugly at some point. Not allot of Hippie Hitchhikers going through Strawberry. Weird little place, that town. North of Payson, on the Mogollon Rim. It's probably lightened up a bit. Or, not. Good place to get eaten by a mountain lion though.

I have very little use for the entire state of Arizona. (Excepting the area north of Flagstaff) It's kind of a smaller, more fucked up version of Texas. Or Arkansas, Indiana, certain parts of Florida and a few other Confederate States. Yes, Indiana. It might as well have been a Confederate State. "Certain Secret Societies" sure liked the place. Ohio, too. Maybe Michigan, outside of the Metropolitan areas.

My Mom, a staunch Conservative, has long held the belief that EVERYBODY East of the Rocky Mountains is a Card Carrying Cretin. The Rocky Mountains and Arizona aren't even on first name speaking terms. I lived just outside of Grand Canyon Nation National Park and that was OK for about 7 months or so. My Wife drank herself to death in Bisbee. Her Niece was murdered in Phoenix this past Friday morning. Fun little state ya' got there, folks. By the way, along with compulsory church attendance, there's a rider on that piece of toilet paper legislation to broaden Open Carry Laws to include all public places. The lyrical question: "Can I Bring my Gun Into Heaven?" rears it's pointed head. Thank you, Cracker. A wonderfully profane/humorous/smart Hillbilly Punkish sort of musical group from somewhere around Santa Cruz. I forget their whole story. They used to be Camper Van Beethoven, born in some Grateful Dead Show parking lot. I like both bands and listen to them often.  

Guns In Bars? "What fun! That's a Bingo!" ("Ya' just say: Bingo, Hans.") Nuthin' better than a bunch of drunk Nuts in a dark room with guns. Don't get me completely wrong here, guns, by themselves are O.K.. It's only when they're placed in the hands of Stupid and/or Psychotic or Drunk Individuals that "guns" become dangerous. Automatic and Semi-Automatic weapons do not belong in Chuck E. Cheese restaurants either. NO GUNS AROUND KIDS, PERIOD.

So the World is FUCKED. But, there's still Tom Waits on Sunday afternoons in Northwestern California...

-Doc