Rick Perry, Christian Terrorist; A Mooner Johnson Alert

 

So. Since I have extra time to myself I’m able to catch up on my reading. That’s a good-news, bad-news dealie. I started rereading the Spenser series of books by Robert Parker again and that would be the good news. I have likely reread the series two dozen times. With ADD, I can’t remember the plot lines the day after finishing, so the series stays fresh for me. Spenser reminds me of me.

Except stronger. And smarter. Maybe braver and handsome-more as well.

The new-found free time, but one result of my recent dosing with skunk venom, has also allowed me to catch up with the many periodicals that usually go unread by me. Magazines are so celebrity biased and jammed with advertisements that I don’t enjoy them anymore. I did find one interesting discovery yesterday when I was scanning Vogue.

You know those tear-and-sniff and tear-and-scratch-and-sniff thingies for perfumes that are in magazines? The pages are always a different size than the magazine sheets, and there are so many in each publication that the fucking things won’t lay flat. Makes them a bitch to stack. We save all of our periodicals because, as Gram puts it, “Who gives a shit, Mooner. Ya got room in yer barn an somebody’s gonna want my Grannies and Gangsters perscription one a these days.”

Indeed. I do have the room to store all of this shit, but since when does having the capacity justify the act? Sort of like what the Republican legislative majorities around the country are doing with their silly and sometimes abusive lawmaking.

I think I have also had a revelation about the ADHD, insight if you will. When I have free time on my hands my brain tends to fritz more frequently, more strongly and for more duration of fritz events. I went to the bookcase in the study to find the next Spenser book to read, saw a spider on the floor, and went to the kitchen to get the broom and dustpan to remove the spider. I try not to kill critters, I simply attempt to remove them.

Sometimes this “removal so as to do no harm by killing” philosophy blows up in my face. Like with fucking skunks.

When I got to the kitchen, Gram was sitting at the big bar top and told me that if I got my smelly skunk ass within fifteen feet of her she’s dumping a double load of buckshot in me. As her 12-gage was sitting on the floor propped beside her chair, I took the threat in earnest. So, I was working my way to the pantry, located on the other side of the kitchen from where Gram sat to the bar, with my back pressed against the wall, cabinets and appliances.

I felt sort of stupid, like some dumbass in a movie who is walking on the building ledge outside the windows– hands behind to keep contact with the building, and feet shuffling sideways as I scooted. Who in their right mind is stepping out a fifty-story window to walk on a three-inch ledge?

When I got to the pantry, I opened the door, turned the light on and quickly shut the door on Gram’s beady-eyed glare. When I came out six hours later, I had reorganized the entire pantry. Instead of having the stored goods racked according to varieties, alphabetically, I did my best to place things together as they are used together. Like I had the pastas with the olive oils, the rice with the olive oils, and so forth.

I’m lucky I have so many bottles of olive oils. Olives and olive oil are some of nature’s magic acts, like tomatoes.

Anyway, the spider was gone by the time I got back to the study, and I don’t like the perfume ad dealies in magazines except to say that, in their existence they caused me to realize not only that idle time plays the devil with my ADHD, but also that many perfumes have undertones of skunk venom in their aromas.

Somehow I knew this already, but sniffing a few hundred magazine perfume ad samples burned the knowledge deep into my gray matter.

The time alone has also allowed me to think more about Texas governor, Rick “God Anointed Me King” Perry. Thinking about that little Christian terrorist makes my brain hurt. I think he might be the most dangerous man in America. I fear for our country if his brand of politics gains purchase across the country.

Thank God for Carta Blanca beer, magic mushroom juice and homegrown tomatoes. Loneliness is a terrible thing to waste. Manana, y’all.

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2 Responses to “Rick Perry, Christian Terrorist; A Mooner Johnson Alert”

  1. Squatlo says:

    I think the little prick you guys elected Governor three times is working his way around the God’n’Guns circuit to prime his own pump for A RUN FOR THE WHITE HOUSE! Goddam, Mooner, do something down there!

    Look, if a certifiable nutjob was threatening to take his dog and pony show out of Nashville and put it on the national stage we’d find some way to keep him here, busy and content. We’d either sue him for something, impeach him, or come up with some blackmail worthy scam that he’d be terrified to run for public office out of the state. Have your Gram give him a Ruffy dose of her mushroom juice!

    By the way, speaking of tomatoes… my lovely (and oh so dangerous) wife and I just let her five year old niece pick our first Bradley of the season. It might have been a day or two early, actually, but I’m not one of those people who can delay gratification by letting things ripen completely. Especially the first ones.

    It was magnificent, and I’m sitting here swilling water to keep the flavor alive in my mouth.

    Tomatoes make all the work of gardening worthwhile. We had our first squash casserole this week, too, so it’s coming on…

  2. Squat. For five years I’ve been attempting to warn the world of the evil poofy-haired Christian terrorist known as Rick Perry. The problem in Texas, same as in many states, is that our churches have more influence than morals.

    As for your garden, I’m glad you finally have some maters and I’m jealous since mine are burned out except for the small ones.

    BTW, it would seem that calling that little prick a Christian terrorist set the bees a buzzing. Wish I was on Facebook for this one. But not enough to join.

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