A 'Lil History

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Ask LOBO

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Before there was LOBOnia, there was America -a vast and untamed frontier.

When we arrived on the Nina, the Pinto, and the Santa Fe, we all had major issues: the Ellis Island locals -"Indians"- had lost our luggage, and gave us a lot of shit about our passports.  But I rented horses and a wagon from AVIS, and a few of us struck out west.

For our Destiny.

***

"Sapphire has been fighting that grizzly bear for hours," Flandsa Ha’asasanba yelled over the windy blizzard two months later.  "We should help her!  I am cold and hungry, and she is trying to get us bear meat and a pelt."

"I got ten bucks on the bear," I yells back.  "Fuck that.  Besides, the dashboard on this wagon is giving me low tire pressure warnings.  That's totally unfixable.  We should use the wagon for a fire and eat the horses!"

And that is why, to this day, I live in Chicago.

Up a Mountain, Down a Hill

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There's a side of me that is grateful to have a job at all, but the climb out of this crater is exponentially harder all the time. The last six months of employment have been 12 hour days, and six days a week.  As of Tuesday, Sisyphus and I are now connected on LinkedIn.

 
Work. Sleep. Work. Sleep. Work, nap, work, work … 

 

Thank God football season ended or I would be dead by now.  And then you guys have to erect that giant commemorative solid gold statue of me, and change all your calendars to include the “After LOBO” era to that weird “B.C.” and “A.C.” crap!

 

But fear not, o Loyal Reader.

 

-I have stayed alive for your convenience.

MARCY PLAYGROUND - Poppies

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"And now this story told,
from days of our old
-when gossamer doggies
ran round

They patiently wait
with pieces of eight
so everybody could smile
one more time."

So Complex Cassandra

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I wasn't surprised when the fight broke out at the plant today.

-Twelve hour six-day weekly shifts, blisters on blisters, and brutal, intense cold since October will get you some fucking fights.

And I started the shift in a state of pre-aggitatation myself: the Feds are wiping their ass with some bullshit “Constitution” via the NSA. Simultaneously, they're shitting on Colorado's State Rights to legalize cannabis by making the proceeds illegal to deposit in banks ... thus, a legal business Colorado supported is being meddled with and physically endangered in a pussy-ass chicken-shit attempt to trick them into laundering money.

-A Federal Offense.

Hmmmmm.

So who owns the banks? Who owns America? Who do they represent?  Who owns this big lie “Freedom," and why did all those all those brave guys die defending it?

I'm not sure why it bothers me frankly. LOBOnia seceded from the “American Dream” many, many, many tax seasons ago.  We don't understand paying somebody to fuck with Us in pursuit of “Liberty”: the “Land-of-Opportunity to rub nickels together for some fuck on a distant foreign beach yelling into his cellephone about his profit margin between blowjobs” can kiss Our royal ass.

LOBOnia formally requests Colorado to send diplomats and delegates to hammer out Peace Treaty terms, and discuss a possible Alliance.

(Catered by Fritos.)

The Cosmic Rolodex

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”Thank you for holding,” she says. ”You have been very patient.”

And this lie throws me off.

-In the Cosmic Rolodex outlining my attributes, “Patient” would be a waaaaayyy deep cut.

”And when did this problem start sir?”

That Rolodex would go: Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clack clickety clickety clickety clickety clack clickety clickety clack clack clack … clack … clack … clack ...

... clack ...

Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clickety clack clickety clickety clickety clickety clack clickety clickety clack clack clack … clack … clack … clack ...

... clack ...

“... Patient.”

-Booyah! And it's about damn TIME.

”I am very sorry I could not resolve your problem,” she concedes. ”Is there anything I can further assist you with today?”

“Well, yes,” I says. “Why is my mother so hard to get along with lately?”

Fimbulvetr

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When I left this morning, it was negative eleven degrees.

Holy shit that's cold.

I remote started the car through the kitchen window, and came out minutes later to find it off. I thought, “that's weird” and started her back up.  All kinds of blinking lights and crazy warning messages came on -like I was driving the flying saucer from Close Encounters.

“ESC MAINTENENCE REQUIRED.”

What the hell does that mean?

-"I'm too sexy to be stolen from the Earth,” I thought. "People will notice! Important people!

 

***

Home safely now. Banging the snow from my boots causes blinding pain, as numerous blisters have fused my feet to my socks. But even then it's hard to be upset. For one, I kinda like winter. Even this nigh-impervious dump is vulnerable to the beauty of a fresh coating of snow. But perhaps more importantly, it's almost Christmas … the months of crazy overtime are finally abating, and the four day vacation ahead -the longest I've had since August by far- is right around the corner.

I am greeted by a pleasant rush of warmth, and set the mail, an ironic mix of bills and Christmas cards, on the end table as I engage in the process of removing my winter gear. Phil II waits impatiently, mewing her plaintiff welcomes.

Preoccupied with the Christmas cards, I ponder looking forward to the end of the holiday season for all the wrong reasons.

-For the first time in years I am confronted with the possibility of not celebrating Christmas, and not having a good excuse for it this time.