Katrina

I wake to a different place



the air heavy and damp



I'm just waiting for the bus to come, for Brownie to tell me the plan



What's next, how do we get out



Why did it rain so



Why did she go so far



I was standing in the jungle



Deep in the disaster



Geting the signal about aftershocks and drama



Loking at the grafitti on the ruins



Adieu



Maybe thats what Brownie is planning



Maybe that's what the rain means.

True North

The lines are blurry now

like a coffee stained map

like crossed wires

its hard to find my bearings

some days I stand here in the south and look north past sugar mountain

looking almost all the way

to Mackinac

Michilimackinac

Which I'm allowed to say

becuase I'm a Michigander

or at least I used to be

I used to know what lakes were about, and what the pines smell like in winter

I knew about Indian names, and Hemi's and big block Chevys and FoMo Co

and Iggy fucking Pop

and maybe I stll do

Standing amid the coffee stains and jumbled wires of a life already in progress

Standing amid finisihed dreams, and summers of dust, and a thousand autums,

and another year

of lists, and maps, and memories of places that do and don't exist

Just like home

Just like true north.

Ti Ra Ra (Thank You Jesus), Voodoo Karaoke, A Gig For Kwame, and The 30 Billion Dollar Perspective Generator

Haiti is a place awash in Jesus and Viagra. All the Tap Taps are decorated with religious art, airbrushed crowns of thorns and confessions of faith such as: "Merci Jesus". Driving through the nightmare landscape of post earthquake Port Au Prince, I would have thought a logo of "What the Fuck Did We Do to Deserve This?" might have been more to the point. The Haitians are a faith filled people, and express gratitude to God on a daily basis... They are also keenly interested in what they call ti ra ra, roughly translated as a "little carnival". What it really equates to is fucking all night long.... which given the heat and humidity is no small feat. I guess if one lives in a U.N. tent with dirt floors, no running water, and a distinct lack of HBO... ti ra ra makes for a nice break from the daytime Jesus talk. I thought of the billions of fuck bucks Americans spend jerking off to porn online, and it occurred to me that a one dollar surcharge on any poontang purchase could buy a hell of a lot of rice and beans for hungry Haitian kids. Here's a slogan: "Making The World Better One Wank At A Time". I know a few guys that would quickly be feeding a whole village. A Haitian told me one night that some of the Extra Crispy Kristian types have been saying that the earthquake was God's punishment for voodoo, or maybe too much ti ra ra , or heaven forbid: Gays having voodoo sissy butt sex all night. That is just the type of thing old Yahweh is likely to get real old school about..But 300k to a million dead in 35 seconds seems a bit extreme even for The Almighty OG. While we were in the small village of Brossier (just outside the epicenter in Leogane) we were treated to a voodoo welcome ceremony. The Mambo (Priestess) set up a portable P.A to run on the compounds generator, the drummers beat the tambou for hours, rum was consumed, and all the locals came to sing and dance. Everyone had a good time, I danced with the Mambo, and when we asked about the spirits possessing the Mambo we were told we would have to wait until at least 2am. I guess the spirits don't care to possess anyone before last call.




Parts of Port au Prince reminded me of 8 mile road in Detroit, minus the liquor stores and tit bars. Everything is covered in a layer of dust and soot, one junkyard spills into the next sun baked lot full of old car parts and graffiti covered walls with faded lotto adverts. (For reasons that remain unclear, Haitians play the New York numbers at small stands dotted along rutted dirt tracks even in a remote village like rBossier). The echoes of Detroit continue into Haitian politics, though I suspect there is less corruption in Haiti. All along the crumbling walls we saw spray painted messages... sort of low tech tweets, some just the sad truth of what happened in that spot ( i.e. 180 Mort), some saying goodbye: "Adieu Maria", and many asking for the return of Papa Doc: "Returnez Duvalier". Since most scientists agree that Msr. Duvalier is still one well and truly dead motherfucker, this opens the way for some other strong man to step in and get the country moving. Should Kwame ever get a weekend pass from the lockup, he might consider a quick night flight to the island. If the Haitians could over look the brutality of Papa Doc and his Mocoutes, a little sexting among friends would not raise eyebrows in PaP.



I have read that some 30+ billion has been poured into Haiti in the past 20 or 30 years. That may well be, but you'd need a team of detectives to find any evidence of it. I suspect most of the cash ended up in numbered accounts in Europe. None the less the perspective generator that is Haiti was working just fine when we were there. Even though 72 % of the people live on less than two dollars a day, they don't begrudge anyone else wealth and success. They just want some too. That is a very un-American idea. Spending time with the people of such generous spirit forces a perspective change in even the most cynical traveler. I was reminded of the meanings of suffering and redemption. I was indicted for my indifference, and convicted for my selfishness. If the arc of the universe indeed bends toward justice: then a hard rain is gonna soak you and me to the bone.

The Paradise Cafe

It's the kind of afternoon when lonely men grow old

an hour at a time

I see them waving from the windows of the Paradise Cafe as we slip past like northbound ghosts

Their silent image remains wrapped in blue smoke ..framed against a purple storefront

fading in the late sun, fading like the days last cigarette

fading like these small towns along the tracks

fading like loves lost memories at closing time

fading like lonely men

an hour at a time.

Out On The Rideline

Evening begins

Over the radio towers, on the ridge out by Poolesville

She arrives like the late plane from Chicago

Following the River

I look to the low Sun

and try to see,

try to find the frequency, try to predict the course of things

But evening comes and morning follows

She sits alone in an imagined room

Without music

Just static between here and there

Just jet noise

And vapor trails falling to pieces

I put lights out in the trees today

Thinking that maybe the day will come

when that makes sense

When I can read the signs, the trails, the sky

Out on the ridgeline

Just before dark.

Not Ready For Prime Time

I was at the 'Span today and had to watch a replay of Saturdays Tea Party "event" in Searchlight, Nevada. Before I get to the review of the stage program, let me point out a couple of things: Calling this abortion an "event" is about as accurate as calling my dog a "scientist". Also lets face it: Harry Reid really is the Anti Christ. Hell, most of my problems and yours are caused by that Mormon fuck from Shitlight. Bad cable reception? Fucking Harry Reid. Balls itch? God Damn that Harry Reid. Wife out blowing a dozen guys from the bowling league? Harry told her to. So obviously it made all the sense in the word for these Scumbag, err Tea bag boys and girls to head straight to the heart of the problem: Fleshlight Nevada. Err, Flashlight NV..Uh no it's Spotlight... err, Nitelight...whatever.. On to the review:


The Tea party Express road show rolled into Bug light Nevada this past Saturday to the cheers of a crowd estimated to number in the dozens. First off the bus was Sister Sarah Palin who delighted the crowd with a detailed description of her favorite sex toys and masturbation fantasies. Ooops, I'm sorry that was a typo. No Sarah mostly whooped and hollered about how much she hates black people. And that Harry Reid makes her twat itch or something. Next up were some” singers and “dancers”, who frankly made me ashamed to be a white person.  Let me put it this way: if that shit was dancing; then Wolf Blitzer is the worlds most interesting man. And tallest. Jesus K. Christ on a stick those fuckers were lame. I loved how they would throw in lines like: "No health care reform" in between the chorus of " We're the Tea Party Express and we're rockin' through your town..". Yea they were rockin all right. They rocked so hard they made "Up With People" look like Led Zeppelin. Fuck me.


Next up was 80's semi celeb Victoria Jackson. I remember her from Saturday Night Live as the kind of waitress type girl you would fuck if you were drunk enough.... sort of like the Geico chick...(15 minutes could save you a case of blue balls). These days Ms. Jackson is older, heavier, less amusing, and a whole lot more crazy. This bitch ate the whole box of crazy flakes... hell she ate the whole fucking case. She "led" the "crowd" in a sing-along of some song she wrote about Obama is a commie... la la la..doo lang doo lang doo lang... doo wop diddy dum diddy dee. YIKES! At least Ann Coulter doesn't try to sing.


The afternoon wrapped up with some minor speakers (when Victoria Jackson is your "A" list celeb, you got trouble). My favorite among the under card Bag heads was the dude in an American flag shirt running for Senate yelling about what a brothel full of whores DC was. Well flag boy, you might want to check in with Dave Vitter on that one. Or even John Boy Ensign right there in Nevada. Plus, do you really think wearing a shirt made from Old Glory will earn you votes? If I wore a shirt with a picture of my dick on it would it help me get laid? (Trust me. it wouldn't) ..Flags and chants of USA are not patriotism my dear bag breath brethren. Although on the topic of uniforms and such, I think Sarah would look right at home in a short skirt SS outfit. Of course then Jesse James would try to fuck her, and maybe Sandra Bullock would get pissed and challenge her to a nude mud wrestling match which Glen Beck could promote and stage right there in Sea Hunt Nevada on pay per view!

Well my hemorrhoids are starting to hurt (Thanks for nothing Harry Reid) so I'm gonna wrap up, plus I have a great idea for an opening act for the wrestling match. Anybody got a number for Up With People?