Friday, April 30, 2021

2 Minutes. Go!

It's hard, rowing against the current. It's demoralizing. Your arms burn, and your shoulders ache, and you barely make any progress. Thing is, if you stop rowing, you're screwed. Even for a second. You'll lose so much, and it will hurt so much more to make up the distance you had already covered. You can just flat quit, lay down in the bottom of the boat with the half inch of tobacco water and old bass rubber, but it stinks down there. You never get dry. You catch a chill when the sun goes down. 

Everyone else is dealing with their own boats. And hell, some of them got two big old outboard motors on them. They create so much wake it's a miracle they don't capsize all the wooden boats, but it is what it is. They must just deserve those big motors, and it's none of your concern. Just keep rowing. Watch out for the wake. Don't question anything. That's what the authorities are for. 

If you need to reach them, they're drinking sweat tea and bourbon on that big party pontoon. 

You can't see ahead of you that well when you're at the water level. Those big bass boats and pontoons have a better vantage. You can stand up and try to catch a peek, but don't fall in. 

Only socialists need help out. 

Now, if you row your boat, don't make no wake with the happy working your way up to a john boat, and don't expect no more...

If you are willing to ignore the folks paddling their canoes like mad, not to mention the poor bastards already half-drowned, trying to keep their heads above water...

If you make sure you're focused on the advancement of YOUR team....YOUR allies...

Man, if you just shut the hell up and row... won't drown at least until the falls. 

We call it retirement. 


Friday, April 23, 2021

2 Minutes. Go!

It was a Tuesday when I decided to head on down to the holler and drink myself to death. All you squares worried someone is gonna find out you jerked off or snuck a few snorts of liquor. You ain't a murderer fucking your cousin; I had real problems. Problems that couldn't be solved except with silence and an unending supply of shine. The holler had the silence; I figured I could provide the moonshine. So, I traded my truck, my shotgun, and my dog to the kid down the road, got me about sixteen full jugs of shine. More than enough. 

I figured it wouldn't be quick, and I was prepared to puke a lot of it up. Spill some. Whatever. Two was more than enough. The sold truck and gun and dog were insurance. I knew I couldn't get 'em back. Now, there was nothing calling to me. 

I cracked the first jug about noon and it tasted like battery acid and fire. It hurt. The first half of the jug hurt, really, but after that nothing hurt for a few days. Then, all the hurt in the world came to me. But I was only down three jugs and there was plenty of silence to shut up. 

I started losing track of time, then. Not just how long I'd been in the holler, but my place in time. I started taking trips back to my childhood and shit. Saw my old man clear as he was sitting beside me, and he blew his brains out ten years ago. Saw my first girlfriend. I swear I could smell her.

I figured I wouldn't know when death came, but I did. I knew it clearer than anything. I felt a calm peace take over my whole body, and I knew that the next time I tipped the jug, it would be the last. I would return to the dirt, become part of the holler. So, I smiled and tipped the bottle, drank a toast to secrets and the woods that keep them.  

Friday, April 16, 2021

2 Minutes. Go!

We have to stop meeting like this. They're going to get wise to you. You aren't toeing the line sufficiently, or you could do better if you just rubbed these essential oils into your eyeballs. Read your bible. Bible. Sorry. 

Take this assault rifle and go bust some bottles out back, son. We need you ready for when the queers and abortioners attack. Put this confederate flag on your truck. Not the white one they waved at the end of the war...the one your cousin has tattooed on her taint. 

You hear about that kid who sold lemonade to pay off his classmate's outstanding school lunch bills? That's fucking socialism, and it's disgusting. Me? I'm making more money than ever by not planting the crops the gubmint don't approve of.  My Deddy got rich not planting soybeans. The government takes care of farmers, you know? 

The people who pick and work in the fields, not so much. 

Did you take the sticker off your new phone? The one that says it totally wasn't put together by sterilized Uyghur women. You're supposed to leave that shit on. Let people know it's official. 

I'm gonna head on down to the Walmart. Yell at some people. Like a real American.