South by Southwest Update

I was just reading Henry Hammond’s book, Moonlight Massacre/Midnight Murder: The Truth About Mooner Johnson. That’s the book Henry wrote when he tried to convince the world that I was guilty of murder when I killed Walley Smalley out to the compost plant.

Look, I did kill Walley but it wasn’t murder. I swear to God. He attacked me first, a fact which was proven at my trial, and I was acquitted of all charges. Henry Hammond is a snively little Baptist butt-weasel.

But I am digressing you here. Just thinking about Henry causes my ADD to go on the fritz.

I had the NPR station tuned to the radio on low volume while I was reading and I heard this live feed from the SXSW music festival. Sorry, that’s the South By Southwest Music Festival. It’s huge right now with musicians, and celebrities and music lovers pouring in from all over the world.

The live feed was from Stubbs BBQ- you know the place that sits between the 40 Acres of the University of Texas and the Texas Capital. Great place. I was there to Stubbs this one time for a fund raiser for the group that raises money to provide for the medical needs of musicians who can’t afford medical insurance. I can’t remember the name of the organization but I’m pretty sure that the Topfer family is involved.

I did some business with the Topfer family a few years ago- erosion control and re-vegetation of a development project using compost and mulch. Very good people. That’s where I met Sally and that friendship developed.

Sally is a musician at heart, a big heart that is trying to fail her by attacking. They are called “heart attacks”, like something is attacking your heart. That’s not right in my opinion. See, I think those medical events should be called, “Attack by the Heart.”

Like when a guy dies and you read his obituary it should say, “Otis Branhiemer, age 52, died suddenly Wednesday, the victim of a murder/suicide when his ungrateful heart brutally attacked him as he watched his favorite TV show, American Idol. Family sources report that Otis’s heart had been stalking him and making what Otis thought were idle threats. Police will not file charges as the heart took its own life in the senseless attack. Officials hope the heart’s autopsy will yield some answers.”

Sally is recovering from her attack by the heart and can now count on the musician’s medical support thingie to assist her. But millions of Americans can’t get health insurance and they aren’t musicians. When their hearts attack, they are basically fucked.

And now to get to my point. The Great Health Care Debate going on in our Congress right now. You guys know the one. That’s the debate where these asswipe elected officials, who have life-long family health insurance which is paid for by other people (you and me), are arguing that the rest of us do not deserve the same benefits of American citizenship as they have.

Now I get the part about the cost and the pork barrel add-ons, the donkey vs the elephant issues and the rest of the political bullshit that accompanies any Congressional legislation. The Democrats are as guilty as the Republicans on that count.

However, as far as I am concerned, until any elected official who opposes this health care legislation votes for the full revocation of his own health benefits paid for by taxpayer money, he is a small-minded egotistical uncaring asshole. To deny the rest of us what we pay for you to enjoy is the worst of hypocrisy and narcissism.

And to say that you won’t support it because of some thoughtful coverages in certain abortion situations is the stupidest stand you can take. Stop using your religious convictions to rule my life. It’s like these Bozos have forgotten the history of why they are free to enjoy the practice of their religion. Remember the Pilgrims?

The saddest aspect of this issue to me is this. Your typical right-wing Christian religious fanatic fails to see his own fanaticism and thinks that he is fundamentally different from the Taliban.

“Have you lost your mind, Mooner?” you are asking me. Maybe, but I’ve got this one nailed with a cold read.

The Taliban wants to rule based upon the tenants of their interpretation of their bible, the Koran. They are willing to force others who are non-believers to oblige their rule. They are willing to kill to enforce their will. They think that all non-believers will rot in Hell.

Now listen here folks. I grew up in the Baptist church and I can guarantee you that interpretation of the Bible is different from the Catholics, as an example. I sat in many services wherein the Baptist preacher explained that the Catholics are Idol Worshipers and heretics and would burn in Hell for the sins of differing interpretation.

And I have heard a Catholic priest urge his followers to murder doctors who perform abortions. I have heard preachers and other religious leaders praise the murderers after their murderous acts.

Governor Rick Perry refuses to allow me to play poker openly in my own state because it’s against the religion of his right-wing Christian backers. Sure he says its because we have to save the children from the evils of gambling, but that is simply a lie. If that shitwad really cared about our children he would work to make real improvements in education and stop cutting funding for child-related services.

Holy shit is my ADHD digressing me to total distraction.

OK. I was reading Henry Hammond’s book about me and he was going into these detailed descriptions of the people in my life. Henry did this to provide the background for his imaginary facts. But it got me to thinking that if I can give you some accurate info about the people in my life, it might increase the pleasure and satisfaction of your taking the time to read my dribble.

So. I’m going to start today with a brief blurb about one of the characters in my life, Streaker Jones.

Streaker Jones is my lifelong best buddy. We grew up together, adolesced together, college matriculated together, de-virginated together (not with each other but with the same college cheerleader down to Mexico), and we are in business together. His daddy is a Peyote Indian medicine man, I can’t tell you who his mother is (I know, but can’t tell), he has a super genius IQ (when he was tested he discovered errors in their evaluation methods), he raises any plant and animal crop that produces a naturally-occurring hallucinogenic agent and markets the resulting products, and he is the finest man I know.

He’s kind of funky to look at but women flock to him because of his eyes. He is the master of dozens of black belts, or whatever highest rank, given for mastering an art of self-defense or combat. He’s the smartest and most dangerous man on the planet, and still the nicest man I know. I wouldn’t want to mess with him, or his, but he is otherwise almost saint-like.

You will never see me call him by any moniker except “Streaker Jones”. That, as my Gram sensed, is his name. No nickname or aka or use of first name only. And for God sakes not “Mr. Jones.”

Like Gram says, “Looka here. That boy is Streaker Jones. Git over it.”

So, get over it.

Also, this website and bloggy job have been up for two days now the the research engines still have registrated them. What’s up with that? Could it be my keystones?

And don’t buy Henry Hammond’s book. I’ll tell you everything you need to know right here.

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4 Responses to “South by Southwest Update”

  1. An Austin psychotherapist says:

    Mister Johnson is the patient of my colleague, Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson. Dr. Am-Johnson is a highly-respected, caring therapist and a darling woman. I read Henry Hammond’s book and I must tell you that Henry makes a very convincing case for Mooner’s guilt.
    What Mooner Johnson has not said is that he was arrested and charged with four NEW murders. But has he informed you of this? NO!!!
    However, I must say the Mooner is a caring and giving person. Crass, but caring and giving.
    To call Mooner Johnson “inappropriate” is an understatement of significant magnitude. I have attended Austin City Council meetings where Mooner has bared his garishly- painted bottom and waved it like a weapon.
    Look, I like Mooner I just don’t approve of him. This website and blog need stronger warnings that a simple PG-13 Rating.
    You need more therapy Mooner.

  2. admin says:

    Dear Missy Austin Psycho thrapist’

    I think I know who you are. You are likely one of maybe fifty area psycho-babblers who hang with Sam I. Am. I have never questioned her professionalism nor her/your profession. I think everybody should be in therapy.

    As for the additional murder charges, I have not spoken of them on purpose! That is fodder covered in my book, so I don’t want to give everything away.

    The PG-13 Rating is proper. I have spent significant time in the study of the Ratings System and I remain satisfied that my content might nudge an R Rating, but not engulf it.

    Thank you so much for your comments. And be sure to attend the next Council meeting for my newest ass show.

  3. "WILD RICKY" Jones says:

    Hey Mooner!
    Thanx fur lettin us know bout yur Intern-net blahh thingy. It sure was excitin findin it. On my way here I lernt that rats do more fuckin than we’d ever magine! I let my “Mooner Vision” get my best, but I dicscoverd that rats mate so much that buy the tine there 8 weeks in age, that alredy have 80,000 decendences or whatever! That’s a shit pot full of rats.

    Anyhow. This computor is tricky to figure out.

    You gonna be at that USA Compostin Club Expose next Thurdsday? If so Id like to share display tents. My compost is lackin that funky smell that ur good stuff always has. I need to make it to were my compost smells like yurs. Oh yeh. I’d also like ta git a sampel from where they found that man u murdred in yur dirt. I got some maters Ima throw it on. Shuold do reel nice. Tell Dixie god blesser fur still puttin up wit ur ass!

  4. admin says:

    I thought you would be sniffing-out my site soon enough. Glad you made it so soon.

    Richard “Wild Ricky” Jones is a composter from down to Florida- right Ricky? He specializes in composting road kill blended with the leftovers from an orange juice plant. Great compost for the strawberries they grow down there.

    Inona, Wild Ricky’s wife, runs his plant (and his life) and drives all of the equipment. Best front-end loader operator I ever met. She’s also the Tuesday Night Tractor Pull champion over to this bar on the county line. I’ll tell everybody about it some day.

    Thanks, Ricky. Please keep reading

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