Homesick

Grinding on tamales slathered in homemade, salsa and accompanied by Nana's homemade beans and fried rice, at her house, would be hitting the spot right about now. Her beautiful and delicately gnarled, ninety-year-old hands producing culinary delights that everyone must enjoy at least once in their life. The food of the peasants is the food of the Gods! Being called Mijo and feeling special. The grand-parents' love for my kids. Going to the Food City to get more Cerveza, limon y queso. Looking cooly at an Ese standing next to me in line, who smells of beer and weed, a tattooed tear under each eye, nodding and grinning at one another, knowing that this is the greatest day of our lives as it reverberates through eternity and awesome permanence. 

I miss enjoying the vibe as Ranchero music and Narco Corridos blare out from the dope dealing, neighbor midget's jacked up, souped up Chevy across the street. He is really short and his truck is really tall; go figure. His midget baby tooling around in the yard and riding his little bicycle dangerously into the road. Random, stray pit bulls and mutts strut down the street oozing machismo and closely held sorrow as we eat tangerines from Tata's trees and buzz glassy-eyed @ 68 degrees, staring at the sun faded world through Bud Light goggles (horrible tasting, but drank out of respect for someone sharing their meager resources with you and loving every moment of it) and breathing the dusty, musty, smoggy brown cloud air heartily like we are on a pristine forest glade. Crazy Dave saunters over and spills his tweak rhetoric about cops and militias, we give him a beer. He saunters away muttering to himself, but you know there is love in there somewhere. 

Every so often a ghetto bird buzzes overhead, chopping the air, adding it's own rhythm to the song vibrating in the fabric of time. The calm, quiet of the West Side Phoenix Barrio during the holidays always reminds me of Ice Cube's 'Good Day' song.

Ice Cube - "Good Day"

"A Message To Thin Air" or "A Dying Man's Non Sequitur"

Dear William F. Wet Blanket, jr.


Stating that the Minutemen are nationalist, carry firearms, and indeed are from Tombstone is not extreme. It is a fact. In fact, you can go to some of the diners there in Tombstone and buy the group's bumper stickers and hats when you are dining on fat burgers and munching down freedom fries. You only choose to see the political stuff that I post on Ray-Man's FB page. You are writing from ignorance and a myopic viewpoint when you go on to posit that everything I post is political, left-wing, and nonsensical. You do not see what I post on my own profile. Inductive reasoning is usually flawed reasoning just like conventional wisdom is usually not very good wisdom. Do you find my writing nonsensical because it can be perceived as left-wing, or because you disagree with it?

I write on and about a myriad of topics and comment whimsically on some of the other posts from time-to-time on some of the interesting things that Dr. Know is always seeming to get into. I would say you should read them yourself and find that I am multi-dimensional, but your lazy, anti-intellectual thinking and lack of a sense of humor are quite striking to me (and all too common). Did you even once actually imagine Ryan buying a rifle and trying to join the Minutemen? Did you get the reference to the band of the same name? I giggled to myself at the imagery of the scene playing in my head as I was writing in the gray confines of my cubicle.

Your bullshit two-sided viewpoint is problematic in that the world does not work in this manner. This or that? Black or white? Good or evil?

You wrote, "I have friends who do things on the other side?"

What other side are referring to? National-Socialism? I am neither a Communist, nor partisan. Mostly I would define myself as somewhat of a cynical, secular humanist. Is this too extreme for your tastes?

The moral of the story? I am quite calm, mostly peaceful, and as I wrote once before: keep my name out of your mouth and your eyes on the road to oblivion; since you do not seem to suffer fools gladly.

Just be passive and entertained. It's much easier on the mind.

Sincerely,
MM23

Watch me some Minutemen. Click Here.

All We Are Saying, Is Give Sleaze A Chance...

These things take some time to get over. I am already elevated quite enough, so that words I string together, and words others string together, have little effect on my constitution and my judgments of the people stringing them together. Please value the absurdity of language when words are connected like train cars in certain configurations that make the train tracks in my brain tickle. Of-the-cuff comments and gutter ball ideas come from me in various ways throughout a given day. Some get filtered and some don't, then get shared. Take the good with the bad and entertain a broad general view of things and my words will seem less atrocious and caustic when juxtaposed with the absurdity, violence, and (somehow) horrible banality of this modern life. Isn't it great that we live in a country (so far) where freedom of speech is usually a guaranteed right and? Isn't it even greater that as humans we have the right to be offended and to voice our displeasure with the words and actions of others by using words and actions of our owns? This can be quite a responsibility to endure; maintaining a modicum of tactful restraint to prevent the outbreak of violence over use of our language. Is it possible to be offended that someone is actually offended? What is that even called?

Seven Words