Midnight Madnesses; Phase Three (Or Is It Four)


So. It’s nor precisely 9 and 22 in the pm in sunny Austin, Texas. I for got to quantify the Carta Blanca consumptions during my last update, so please allow me to correct those mis-steppings here to the now. I had, wait, I think that maybe I quantified the Carta Blanca consumptions yet neglected to provide the needed information about what my Gram did to me. Let me summarize thus, and suchly. I have consumed three more beers since my last posting and three before that, I decided to smoke a touch more of the killer weedskie as supplied by Streaker Jones, and my grandmother has attempted to bring me to my knees with a potion she calls “Let’s Git Mooner So Screwed He Fergits His Name”[.]

Since I remember that my name is Mooner “Call Me Mister Tibbs” Johnson, I’m certain that I’m not Sidney Poitier. I am, and this is a certainty, stoned to the gills. I have been deeply in love with two black-skinned women in my life and I miss them both right now. If SAC Ellen fucks with me in the least, I’, going looking for Roshandra Washington-Johnson, my fifth ex-wife and one of the finest women in the world.

We just tried to remove the dressing from the oven but it needed another few minutes. So I took all the dogs to the bathroom to pee in the sink, and Dixie—my trusted and loving Dixie—called me a miscvreant.

“You, Mooner Johnson, are a fucking miscreant,” were her exact words. “Why can’t you teach your animals to use the great outdoors like every sane man in America?”

Well fucking duh, was my best thought.

If any of you are schooled in the finer arts of the great Texas psilocybinic mushroom, you already know that anger and animosity are the farthermost emotions from a person’s center core when influenced by their consumptions. You also know that love, tolerance and a basic acceptance of your fellow humans is utmost of those same emotions. Therefore, and hithermore henceforth, please allow me to say that I love everybody except for all of those right-wing Republican Christian fuckballs that populate the world in ignorant masses. I especially love BJ. He knows why and so do I.

Mooner, and out for now. Later dudes and dudettes.

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2 Responses to “Midnight Madnesses; Phase Three (Or Is It Four)”

  1. bj says:

    I know from a personal s’perience of observation them 20or so Carty Blancas ain’t havin’ no effect on ya’. Yer Gram’s POTION, on the other hand, seems to have you (and ME, now!) waxing nostalgically….. and is making my mouth water somewhatishly. Reckon it’s too late in the season to go ‘Patty Flippin’ here in Mid-Tenn? Don’t let that dressin’ over cook and get too DRY! That’s a sin whether yer a Xtian or not!

  2. admin says:

    Beej. I would think the warm weather and moist air might just spur some spoor activities. Worth a look-see.

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