Doctor Doctor, give me the news (Got a bad case of wearing one shoe)
October 22, 2018
“Does an apple a day keep the doctor away? Only if you aim it well enough.” – Anonymous
“After you find out all the things that can go wrong, your life becomes less about living and more about waiting.” – Chuck Palahniuk
So here I am, catching my breath outside the door of my local bone and joint clinic, having arrived on time for my appointment to get a consult from my surgeon, the one and only Dr. Cerreon regarding how I’m healing, whether or not my stitches can come out, and most important to me at this moment, the supreme decision of if I can ditch the walking frame, and get one of those dorky walking boot things, so I can actually move forward and start getting my life back in order, and also to a lesser degree, finishing the job of unpacking the rest of our moving boxes.
However by myself, I finally did manage to assemble Ashley’s solid steel 32 piece DVD rack, and then organized and filed her collection this week, so officially- I am truly one motherf’kng badass Gimp* by all marketable rights.
*[An insulting idiom for someone that is disabled or has a medical difficulty that results in physical impairment.]
Don’t look at me that way- I still have priorities to tackle, despite my unable to tackle anything foot, and I’m on the verge of losing my mind due to staring at all the blank walls in our house, which is a result of my being too laid up to start hanging the mountain of art we still have in the garage. And don’t even get me started on the numerous boxes of books, as I’ll most likely enlist you to help me file all of them. You can’t throw a Creative into a Navajo White box ala Schrödinger, and realistically expect to find them alive when you return to open it up. Most likely, you’ll find a suicide note and a completely realized and somewhat sardonic, Picasso-esque piece of art on the interior, written and painted from the very same vein they opened up thirty seconds after you left the room and turned out the lights.
What can I say? We do tend to have a certain flair for the dramatic.
But enough babbling on my part, it’s time to find out the verdict, so here we go to discover wha… HEY LADY? Can you not see I’m using a walker here!?! Yeah… thanks… geez, somebody turns ninety and all of a sudden, they think they own the planet. Sometimes people using crutches can be so rude, you know? So, 15 minutes later after doing serious damage to my Sprint data plan, thanks to the fact that there are NO freaking magazines in the waiting room, I hobble my semi-disabled butt into a stereotypically small exam room, and after some small talk, I get the judgment, and it’s…
The ball is hit out of the park, and lands squarely atop the noggin of a tiki-torch carrying white supremacist chanting inanities… so in other words, no real damage, and an act of community service gets accomplished all in one shot. My healing seems to be quite on track, my stitches get taken out, and as a bonus, I’m getting some snazzy new footwear in my favorite color- that being black, and even my surgeon, the normally serious Dr Cerreon, states that “we’re currently winning”, so the afternoon overall, comes across as pretty damn good. I still have to use a cane, which sort of sucks, but now the issue of stability seems diminished, and seriously, look at this walking shoe and cane combo…
Totally pimp, are they not? Sure, the cane lacks personal pizzazz, hence the reason why there’s no picture of it, but the shoe? It’s as if a flip-flop, an Addidas sport shoe, and a roll of Velcro set up an illicit threeway, and then spirited the unforeseen child away at birth. You know… much in the manner of Jesus.
And with the practicality of the cane as a bonus, it’s just like our hypothetical Lord and Savior showed up, and started working miracles. For instance, I can now use both feet, albeit with great care, as I still can’t expose my left foot to the full weight of my body, and I’m going to have to remind myself not to overdo it for the next few weeks, as this new phase of healing works itself out. This by the way, is going to be extremely difficult for me, as I’m chomping at the bit to both get out of the house, and to unpack the rest of our stuff, so I can equally stop tripping and obsessing over it.
But enough about my medical stuff, let’s talk politics for a flash, because I haven’t made anyone mad in a while, and at the moment, I’ve also been giving serious contemplation to the idea that the next time I see a member of the red-hat brigade, I’m going to swipe that redesigned Klan hood off their head, light it up with my trusty Zippo, and jam it down their hatefully ignorant throats as if were a Flaming Moe*.
*[The Flaming Moe is a drink first made infamous in the long-running animated series The Simpsons, and according to people who have too much time on their hands who study these things for some reason, the original drink recipe consists of an insalubrious amalgamation of crème de menthe, peppermint schnapps, tequila, and a dash of children’s grape-flavored cough syrup. Just remember- the secret ingredient is Love.]
Specifically, I’m calling attention to the sham-show that is both the current incarnation of the GOP and it’s so-called set of “values”. To be clear, I’m not bagging on the moderate (read: sane) Rebubs out there, I’m talking about the ones who maddeningly, still support the Mango Mussolini despite his lies, payoffs, corruption, adultery, misogyny, and dare I say it, a lack of intellect so stunning it makes Kanye West look like the esteemed scholar Dr. Cornell West on his best day. A man whose entire purpose seems to be to turn this country and it’s people into hateful and xenophobic nimrods, while pissing on everything that defines the values of what we hold dear as actual patriots. Like most people, I’m suffering from a severe form of mental exhaustion overload due to the unvarying barrage of ignorance, corruption, misogyny, victim-shaming, massive narcissism, and tone-deafness that emanates from this so-called administration everyday, without fail.
Actually, I take that back, as the state of “fail” seems to be the one true hallmark of this sleaze-fest masquerading as a presidency. I’m not sure what Trump’s problems in regards to his overall mental state are, but I’m also pretty certain they’re extraordinarily hard to pronounce. Whether it’s lining his pockets at our expense, sympathizing with the white supremacist movement, or using Twit-ler to attack everyone ranging from black people only, [weird that] to sexual abuse victims, it’s fairly obvious our Hell-spawned, man-boy, slobbering incarnation of a President is at best, a narcissistic and racist buffoon, who at worst, happens to also be a wannabe dictator fetishist, albeit one possessing the nuclear launch codes.
I don’t know about you, but I for one, feel so much better now that the most destructive force of nature ever evilly developed, is in the hands of the ass-clown who fired Gary Busey on TV, but cowardly thus far, lets others do it for him at the White House, as he feigns ignorance about it, like the punk-ass bitch he has always been. And it’s probably also a good time to mention that he once stated that he truly believed reality TV was, and I qoute: “for the bottom-feeders of society”, so now you know where he got his base ofanti-intellectual, misogynistic, racist, tin-foil wrapped, Confederate, Nazi flag, tiki-torch waving, orange-c**k-gobblers, who in their spare time, espouse conspiracies such as Pizzagate, Hillary’s a serial killer, and Obama is running a shadow government out of his house, to name just a few of their charmingly loathsome qualities.
To quote English-American writer and pamphleteer Thomas Paine: “To argue with a man who has renounced the use and authority of reason, and whose philosophy consists in holding humanity in contempt, is like administering medicine to the dead, or endeavoring to convert an atheist by scripture. Enjoy, sir, your insensibility of feeling and reflecting. It is the prerogative of animals.”
And trust me, you cannot debate with these Harpies of Hypocrisy, especially if you use civility, facts, and in general, reality overall as a construct from which to start from. No matter what facts are presented to them, they’ll just shriek their preprogrammed Manchurinisms such as “fake news!”, or decry that your evidence/civil demonstrations of common sense were wholly underwritten by Soros, [a classic] photoshopped, [even though that’s their niche] or “taken out of context” even when you have video that proves otherwise.
My IG feed* is littered with the burnt-out husks of these simpletons of society, since I have acquired a salacious taste for their limited in size souls, and they just cannot resist flying towards my metaphorical bug-zapper light, even as they view the Vlad Dracul inspired corpse field that’s obviously visible around them.
Unfortunately, the majority of us on the right side of History seemingly think we need to extend an olive branch of sorts to these modern-day Neanderthals, even as they are currently pushing without prudence for the inclusion of an alleged sexual deviant to the highest court in the land, a view I vehemently disagree with on every level. These odious slugs have not earned our charity, our respect, or even the lowest tenets of our basic Humanity, whereas I’m concerned, and I highly doubt that POV will change anytime soon, given the current political climate, which hasn’t been helped by completely tone-deaf and completely asinine statements from Cadet Bone Spurs such as “It’s a scary time for young men in America; you can be guilty of something you may not be guilty of.”
Classic projection at best, definitive admission of personal guilt at worst, and as always, a repulsive display of affinity for true male privilege, replete with an additional measure of misogyny thrown in as a personal throwaway joke. The man may not be able to punch above his weight, but he without doubt, does know how to do it below the belt. At this point, he’s tarnished our national image so much, that it currently resembles an encrusted sculpture from Damien Hirst’s artistic flop, Treasures from the Wreck of The Unbelievable*.
*[ https://hyperallergic.com/391158/damien-hirst-treasures-from-the-wreck-of-the-unbelievable-venice-punta-della-dogana-palazzo-grassi/ ]
Due to his disturbing penchant for being an entrenched narcissist, he’s not only managed to make America look weak and morally rudderless in the eyes of the world, he’s also infected his sordid mélange of racism, misogyny, willful ignorance, and indifference upon the body politic as noted earlier. Never in my lifetime as a political animal, can I recall someone so personally vile sitting on the American throne of influence, while concurrently having no idea what to do or how to present oneself to the international community.
By way of example, George Bush Jr wasn’t ever going to be considered Einstein by any standard of measuring I regard highly, but at least I never thought he was going to attempt a full-on military campaign as a means of deflection against Agrabah*, like 41% of his followers once advocated**.
*[Agrabah is a fictional city from the Disney film Aladdin, which goes to show you that there’s not only a desperate need to seriously underwrite public education in this country, but free access to birth control as well.
As I’ve often noted publicly, the members of the Chinese-made Red Hat Brigade tend to be the human embodiment of a cheap bumper sticker- all faux intellectualism, but ultimately, presenting as flat, ignorant, and harder to remove from society than the wrapping on a compact disc. And yes, I did state “remove”, and I stand by it 100%. Possibly 135%, since they’re into inanities and alternate facts, and I want to come off as tolerant of the defective DNA that defines them. For the record, I have absolutely zero issue with anyone who thinks differently than me, based on the minor protocol that they are actually thinking to begin with.
Facts count. Science is real. Reality is concrete. And no, I don’t care what you read on the Web, or saw on FOX, especially when it’s praised by commentary from overly bleached fembots who uniformly, look like they were pressed out of a Barbie mold by the men of FOX who apparently, just stepped out of 1955.
And in regards to this sub-group of knuckle-dragging troglodytes who think those same said women should be okay with the occasional ass-slap or unwanted comment at work about their appearance every now and then, they’re pretty much interchangeable with our current incarnation of Congress- a group of taxing teat suckers who while rife with sexual predators of their own, felt the need to allow their so-called leader to apologize publicly to an “alleged” rapist for the minor inconvenience of being held accountable for the past transgression that brutally honest people refer to not as “boys will be boys”, but by it’s true name, that being rape.
They deliberately chose to mock and outright ignore the trauma and testimony of sexual survivors, albeit with an air of sheer cowardice as their underpinning. Most like Bob Corker and Mitch Mc Connell, did it self-righteously if not proudly, while the eternally slimy Jeff Flake performed an embarrassingly ham-fisted act of failed piety for the sake of the cameras alone. And the shaming, threatening, and blaming of said victims was truly reprehensible beyond all shadow of any doubts… especially for people who claim to represent us and our supposed American values.
To a man, and more disturbingly, some women- the eager trading of ones soul, integrity, and inherent compassion for nothing more than a few ethereal magic beans of limited power, borders on the actionably treasonous, if not the inhuman. Immigrant children ripped from families and put up for adoption, a morally corrupt administration headed up by the lowliest of jabbering grifters, a dismantling of the programs designed for our greater good for no other reason than pettiness and greed, along with a wave of unconstrained racism not seen in this country since the days of the Freedom March.
And these constructs of human pudding skin and hubris have the gall to say they stand for us? What a beautiful and shining vision that was, but is no longer, America. Hopefully come November, a sea-change occurs which begins the process of flushing out the carcinogen that is currently masquerading as leadership within this country, and than we can all stop wondering aloud just when this jackass Oompa-Loompa is going to kill us all with his spiteful idiocy and vanity, if for other reason than to overcompensate for his alleged shroom-dick.
Gag. Sorry, just needed to get that off my chest. I can vote, and continue on with my performance-art project of mailing anti-Trump postcards to the most die-hard of his supporters, but sometimes you have to vocalize your rage in lieu of debating whether the jail time would be worth it. Sigh… on to happier things.
That btw, being the publishing of a new media interview of yours tr by VoyagePhoenix.com, and here’s the link, if you feel so inclined to read it:
With any luck, I won’t come off as dense, but time will tell, as it always does, but I still like my overall odds here. As for the day to day of what’s been going on, the further I move away from the PAS and it’s intrinsic drama, the better my energy is. Not being directly involved anymore with what had become an exceedingly toxic soup, has allowed me the rare opening to experience an epiphany of sorts- that being how great it feels to be free of it. As noted clearly in a previous screed, while I still plan to promote and support a select group of artists and galleries within the scene from my new Lair of Snarkitude, the rest of the PAS can go fend itself.
I’ve spent almost ten years writing, critiquing, and suggesting how this two night a month mediocrity could improve it’s standing within and beyond it’s self-imposed borders, and quite honestly, I’m done with being the flag-bearer for people who deign to tell me from the shadows that they agree with what I’ve said, and yet still refuse to take public action of any sort to forcibly change the track of this mismanaged debacle erroneously veiled as a financially viable art scene. Speaking of which, having this forced downtime has allowed me to take an outsider’s perch regarding the vibe of the local art river, balanced out with a fair amount of anonymity that I’m relatively unaccustomed to- which is sort of nice, if I was so inclined toward being rather candid.
No need to scare the straights right out of the gate, you know… although I’m sure I’ll get around to it eventually. Or maybe not, depending on how my initial immersion goes. It truly will be a dice toss, no matter which way it spins. But despite the cautiously optimistic news from my surgeon, this has been a depressing cycle, nonetheless- my 20 year old Euromastyx pet lizard Geiger died unexpectedly this week, and my discrimination complaint was dropped without explanation by the AZ Attorney General’s office as well, which just goes to firmly attest the truism that lightning doesn’t hit nearly enough of the right people at the right time.
If there ever were a need for a Vogon analog, these bureaucratic boneheads would definitely fit the costume, if not the bill. I would offer up some other insults in typical vein, but that seems rather pointless when you’re dealing with people who think that ignoring the obvious should be their go-to niche. Despite my past addressing of this issue which regarded my limited take on the supervisor who illegally fired me, I still feel the need to call attention to the particulars that these pencil-pushing pinheads glossed over, and I’ll most likely tackle that at some length in a future screed.
Oh lucky you.
So for now, I’ll just quote actor (and awesome Dr. Strange) Benedict Cumberbatch as a means to close off this topic for the time being: “There’s so much in the 21st century that is stymied by bureaucracy and mediocrity and committee.”
Truly, a perfect assessment when it comes to this inefficient, ineffectual, and as one might be sorely tempted to opine if given the pause- exceedingly dishonorable agency. I’m not really sure what their employees “do”, but seeking the Truth is allegedly not a component of it. Unethically cashing a paycheck while loafing however, does seem more probable in MHO, given both the puzzling outcome and the seeming lack of actual investigation in regards to my case, but as I said, I may address this later, depending on my mood, the pool of pure writing inspiration, and whether or not I feel the need to remove someone’s essence via their eye sockets…you know, like you do.
Woof. This seems like an opportune time to take a break, don’t you think?
And when I come back… I see how much art a former art hanger can hang while being completely off-balance, discover what it’s like to truly celebrate Halloween for the first time as an entrenched suburbanite, and wonder if substituting in a custom walking stick as a calculated addition to my overall look would be considered a positive, or as completely narcissistic.
“That is why, no matter how desperate the predicament is, I am always very much in earnest about clutching my cane, straightening my derby hat and fixing my tie, even though I have just landed on my head.” -Charlie Chaplin