Jesup, Part the Thirteenth (a re-write)

and ron's daddy he piloting his dull gold electra two twenty five with the white vinyl top and a little rust showing down around the back window a little more over there right beneath the driver side door ron's daddy sitting stoically behind the wheel the car sliding so silently they don't even know he is there until after he eases that deuce and a quarter right on into a parking spot across the street and the door opens with a squealing creak that leaps over to ron and his mom arcs across like a charge between two poles leaps over with a familiar splat followed by a long squeaky pull

kind of like a frog tongue suddenly smacking a fly across the lily pad then taking its time

reeling it in

the long low scream of the fly beneath the breeze fading fading to nothing as it approaches the waiting amphibian gulp

ron's daddy steps out his cowboy boots step out one at a time boots covered by crinkled khakis going all the way up mister johnson's granddaddy longlegs hanging on to his skinny frame by a wide rawhide threaded leather belt gripping a big buckle image of a fanged fat faced drooling ugga the georgia bulldog the apostle of all that is good in the state that he serves at the pleasure of vince dooley his lord and master who will sit at the right hand of god hisself our god who grants us victory on the field of battle

such a special relationship between dog and god that any possible loss is the fault of satanic intervention at a magnitude against which even god's apostle has difficulty defending

ron's daddy mister johnson he looks both ways more as a matter of courtesy than out of necessity he spits he crosses the street with lanky rubber band man steps he tightens the knot of his skinny tie as he hops up the stairs kisses ron's momma on the cheek lightly but with a generosity not lost on ron he sees her eyes they sparkle just a bit through the worry he ron's dad he looks at ron he looks at ron's momma he looks back at ron he says hey now you ready to go in get this thing over with ron he nods he's still looking out across the lawn they each look out over the lawn mister johnson ron johnson's momma ron johnson they all look out over the lawn mister johnson

he says well

and they turn and walk on into the courthouse the heavy door opening inward a slit of light expanding into a framed gentle beam the ghosts of a thousand souls float and twinkle in the sudden brightness sparkling dust caught dancing in the lightest of drafts a giggling gaggle of mischievous faeries frozen fiercely en flagrante and the door closes and the elven magic disappears fades into the cruel dank coolness that is this heartless objectivity of the law

walking down the corridor to visit with saint peter himself perched up on his barstool hunched over his scrivener's desk his beard tinged on the edges with splotches of blue black ink dripped shaken splattered a bottle of bourbon cork removed sitting half empty next to the thick large ledger from which he manages the fates of all those who enter who approach who come crawling in on fraying threads of hope never mind that he is

a love supreme

he is old he may forget to forgive us this day our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us

and months before this musty courthouse stroll before the band began its august sonata the spring it would come and bring its showers and flowers and humidity and heat and memories and moonshine and love and lust and it would bring in the month of june

that month of hope that month of beginnings and endings of weddings and funerals

and ron he would travel south from the big city he would cross the line he would make his way across the creek that defined the here from the there he would broach the divide of yesterday and tomorrow of forgiveness and damnation

and ron would come home at the end of spring quarter beginning of summer break he had a job lined up he was going to work with his friend bobby over at bobby's daddy's store the jesup feed and seed

and ron would come home and bring all his belongings clean out his dorm room stuff everything he could fit into the big old trunk an army footlocker his old man had bought him at the local surplus store

and ron would come home with his belongings which besides his clothes included only a desk lamp his stereo his album collection his portable typewriter his rolled up skynrd posters his three bongs small medium and large the large one hidden in wrapped up in his sleeping bag and the other two in his back pack

and ron would come home with his belongings including his clothes two pairs of jeans two pairs of cut offs a bathing suit his momma had bought him but that he had never worn one steal your face and an assortment of punk rock emblazoned tee shirts acquired at various concerts during the year his blue jean jacket and his ten pairs each of permanently penned and john hancocked underwear tee shirts and white calf high socks

and ron would come home to jesup for the summer home again home again jiggety jig jiggety jig indeed returning to town in the backseat of the johnson family station wagon his mom and dad up front mister johnson leaning forward left ear over the steering wheel trying to detect some click some clack some serious sound seemingly hailing from beneath the dash from the front of the car but ron could hear the same burping growl coming from behind him where he knew the faux wood panel peeled from the rear door in long thin strips curling away from the muffler's gradually blackening exhaust as it parrumphed and harrumphed

belched and blew

ron johnson had returned to jesup trumpets blaring

the surface of normal

mixed stirred shaken poured pounded rolled and sliced tis a blessing tis a curse tis a wondrous fulfillment of love lust and loathing the seconds in a minute the minutes in an hour the hours in a day

this day this daze coats the surface of his normal

not unlike the thousand year old salt evaporated from the sweat of swimmers stripped of speedo and cap coating the redwood benches floors and walls incapsulated in the sauna squeezed slipped and separated from bodies born before betelgeuse

a crusty crackly crustaceous coating

protecting tender feet from feral foot fungus present since the club’s founding in that year of our lord eighteen hundred and seventy three claimed proudly stated loudly horns blaring flags waving chest thumping corner pissing mary hailing self declaring

they are a proud people they are a boastful bunch they are brazen sons of bitches sporting corpulent coltish cocks and paul bunyan balls that glow red and purple as they thaw in the dry heat

they are strong like bull

red and yellow black and white they are precious in his sight

angel and demon noble and savage an ordinary folk of demotic language who have yet to find a body of water they couldn’t swim a splash of rum they couldn’t drink a piece of ass they couldn’t mount

they hold court in the sauna pontificating on points substantial and subsidiary shameless and surreptitious

while the world outside passes by unnoticed

they walk in they shiver they shake they plop their post plunge derrieres on the dried kindling their consciousness slowly returns from the chill memories temporarily lost give rise to awareness awake and avail themselves to neptune and his nymphs

oh goddess of the water
thank you for taking me into your arms
rocking me gently
delivering me
safely back to shore

i know a girl

i know a girl well yeah he says with that grin that toothy dirty old man grin he says yeah i guess really she is all woman

i know a woman

this woman i know she give me a wink when i say this this woman she give me a wink because she know i know she plays both sides of the fence she know i can see both sides this woman she is torn nee perhaps stretched between betwixt that communal world that peace love and tie dye the universe will provide save the world loose skirts and cotton tops that expose all that bossily loveliness of the hippie

and that pouty faced green purple tequila sunrise colored hair middlefinger to the air stern nihilist kiss my ass fuck you fuck your mother fuck your sister fuck your dog and the horse you came in on combat boot wearing yeah i’m talking to you punker

and that most uncomfortable middle ground of corporate vice presidency where they just don’t want to know they just don’t want to care

i mean that hippie thing i mean it’s not like she’s that old hippie hanging out down by the statue in the panhandle the old hippie that maybe might have touched his tongue to tab a few too many times

might have got on that magic bus might have kind of forgot that he got on that bus next things he knows that bus driver of the mind he’s nudging you in the consciousness in the middle awareness with the toe of his boot he’s saying the bus driver he’s saying

hey buddy last stop

just like my friend fred with no hair on his head he used to get kicked off the five fulton all the time that was after he got kicked out of his apartment way back when way back in the day when i first met him turns out that night i met him he was being asked to leave his place

fred he just didn’t know it at the time

i mean we both me and fred we both knew these guys who went to college with me these guys e and m and and these guys e and m and a few others chrono and stenks and black-man and a few assorted stragglers we all played cards we played cards every wednesday night started playing middle of freshman year kept it up til we graduated

except black-man he never graduated perhaps he gave too much gave more than he could afford

and e and m they used to have this little business they used to collect package and distribute via the official postal service of these here united states of america certain illegal contraband acquired by rather questionable and most certainly unsavory means sent from atlanta georgia air mail to brockport new york boxes upon boxes filled with lovely lovelies both natural and manufactured they didn’t discriminate they were businessmen they discussed transactions over speaker phone during said wednesday night poker game

quantities strains brands prices shipping aliases shipping logistics rented mail boxes

yes quite the enterprising young men misters e and m and fred with no hair on his head

and i graduated and moved to san francisco and fred with no hair on his head he moved to san francisco and either e or m one of them sent post cards to us both sent to me and sent to fred with no hair on his head yes even then at the young age of twenty one twenty two fred he had no hair on his head and so yeah we each got this post card making the intro

and we gave each other a call he called me i called him i forget who called whom first but we met at this bar over on geary and masonic because fred heard it was the greatest and with fred as i came to know fred with fred everything was the fucking greatest

man that weed was the greatest man that burger was the greatest man that weekend was the greatest the fucking greatest man i gotta tell you

and we met at this bar at geary and masonic it was called the pig and something some irish bar yeah go figure some irish bar on geary it’s not there any more but we met at this bar

we were having beers fred had just come from barbecuing at his place and well it seems while we were sitting around drinking beers and getting to know each other and telling stories like twenty year olds tell stories and getting drunk and laughing and yelling in the bar like assholes who just got legal and

it seems that while all this knee slapping good time all this revelry all this merriment trending toward ribaldry was going on whilst we bellied up to the bar and drank pint after pint with a random jameson’s woven into the order seems that old fred well he had forgotten to completely put out the fire had neglected to douse the coals like old smokey had been asking him since he was but a wee one spinning his dreidle back in westchester and

those back decks down in the mission they can get kind of windy down there those little whirlwinds coming whipping down off the hill and that little fucking hibachi it just danced across the dried up redwood planks and lit that thing on fire and

the fire department got summoned via the magic of nine one one and since dear old fred with no hair on his head was not home since old fred was out getting drunk with me since old fred was otherwise indisposed the firemen in all their finest rubber suit helmeted keppele and hoses our heroes had no choice but to take ax to door

chop chop

and fred with no hair on his head in the early hours of the morning he returned home to yellow tape criss crossed and up and down his door or rather what was left of his door and his landlord who patiently explained that the place was now uninhabitable because well the firemen had felt it necessary to spray water through his apartment to the deck and

maybe it would be best for fred to find another place to live

and so fred he moved to his brothers house his brother who was older and wiser and had moved out to san francisco years before and had married and had become a very successful salesman of the highest regard and whose wife was a bit of an agoraphobic and she rarely left the house

and yeah i forgot to mention that fred well he was unemployed at the time

and fred and sister in law well let’s just say that not only was sister in law agoraphobic and rarely left the house well she was a bit compulsive about the cleanliness of her own personal hoosegow and our dear fred in the midst of his unemployment felt perfectly fine simply hanging around the house getting stoned and drinking beers and watching television and talking on the phone to his friends back east talking about what a great set up he had and well he was the oscar of this unlikely relationship and sister in law she had words with hubby and

fred moved in to my place shortly thereafter

and slept on a palette on the floor in the living room my dog she liked to cuddle up with him at night i’d come walking in before going to work going to take the dog for a walk there they were i felt bad splitting them up and i lived on fulton street a one bedroom flat near the museums and the five futon it came right by the house and fred

he’d go out drinking take the five fulton home well back to my place and just about every time he’d pass out he’d wake up out by the beach the bus driver kicking him in the ribs saying

hey buddy hey pal

last stop

it’s not like she’s that old hippie no

and

i mean it’s not like she’s all sid and nancy either she’s not some frail pale white punker chick listless and uncaring and anarchist and talking smack

and doing a lot of heroin

it’s not like she’s that stringy haired brunette who moved in with who lived with n b after college that would drape herself over him like curtains like a bathrobe

n b and she after college they drifted into the world of not giving a shit

unbelievers agnostics

whose art was all about giving up not surrendering but simply fucking letting go

they’d go to shows but they didn’t mosh they didn’t slam they stood on the side and grooved and critiqued and n b wrote cynical reviews rants polemics for the local underground newspaper for pennies a word

and she would paint using only black oils and white oils and any shade that she could concoct using black and white oils

it was all so dobie gillis stereotypical that

yeah they got bored and

yeah they floundered a bit

toying with politics

but the anarchist party in atlanta georgia was not exactly a growing phenomena in the reagan eighties and so

yeah they had to drift into doing a little heroin

snorting it at first maybe chasing the dragon if they got hold of some good choice black tar then they popped it then they hell what the fuck then they just shot up heroin what the fuck

and then they had no money

because n b he spent all his trust fund that went pretty quickly and they moved to a place down in that no man’s land near the marta line between georgia state and inman park and they tried to start a little business on the dregs of his trust fund and that failed

because they liked to do a lot of heroin

and they started this cleaning service

and they would clean out houses

but that kind of ended when they got caught casing the places coming back later and stealing stuff

and then they found a very creative outlet they called it

shopping

hey what you doing man well dude we’re going shopping this afternoon

yeah they would hit high end department stores shoplift incredibly expensive things and then return them the next day for cash refunds

because they liked to do a lot of heroin

and they were serious punkers and n b would put on headphones and play his bass to the stooges late into the night and smoke fag after fag and she would talk about how fucked up the system was how the president was a fucking faggot crook and how the fucking hippies were faggots and how the fucking panda bear at the national zoo was a faggot and how the faggots were faggots

because they liked to do a lot of heroin

and then they just disappeared

and then one day they just weren’t there then one day they just didn’t show up

they just disappeared

and

he says no

he says no it’s not like she’s that listless punker no she’s not

he says yeah

i know a girl well yeah he says with that grin that toothy dirty old man grin he says yeah i guess really she is all woman

i know a woman

this woman i know she give me a wink when i say this this woman she give me a wink because she know i know she plays both sides of the fence she know i can see both sides this woman she is torn nee perhaps stretched between betwixt

those two worlds

he say yeah he say she fight so hard to touch both sides she try so hard to keep in touch with both sides maybe every now and then actually getting down in that puddle and wallering around getting all dirty

maybe mixing up with the dead kennedys

maybe nibbling on some marijuana tainted chocolate toffee till she gets the nods

but hey he says

but hey

she still

fighting the man

fighting from becoming the man

goddamn he say goddamn she put up quite a fight

so she don’t get stuck in that vice presidency of corporate america middle

those shoes though they be hot they way they put that wiggle in her walk the way they put that shake in her shimmy

and he say and he grin you know how i dig those starched white shirts pulled all tight pulled all snug across those sugary cones of delight high beams up and bright and blinding

but she don’t want she just dread that middle ground that most uncomfortable middle ground of corporate vice presidency where they just don’t want to know they just don’t want to care

he say yeah best simply to get on the bus and disappear

Random Acts of Sanity

first there is this then there is that

flip the card roll the dice take a coin rub a dub dub scratch the itch scratch off a winner anyone can win all it takes is one lucky guess pull it from a dream pull it from a vision pull it out his ass shake shake shake the eight ball what does it say

he don't know he just thinks hey they just gave me a number when i was young

oh lawdy

friday it do lead on into sattidy just like it do just like it always do

the institutionalization the ritualization of love almighty if it's tuesday it must be belgium if it's wednesday it must be meatloaf

bay bridge crossing riding the ribbon running the top deck into the city norcal winter moving into spring not quite there on its way getting around to it the tempers of youth flaring the toddler of the season just can't make up its mind it rains it doesn't it ain't right now it ain't raining right now it's saturday afternoon and the clouds they gather like a tantrum brewing it's going to it's going to rain

but not yet

but not just now

that time of the year though tis the season for the reason don't you know sorta in between stretched not squeezed

maybe it's more lift and separate mother earth frisky teen that she is she be so tempestuous and sexy right about now

silly little tart telegraphing her blood orange crack of dawn dip dip dipping her little finger into the bowl of desire tasting the crystalline cries of christian blood

saints and sinners simmer and stew

while white puffer clouds move across the azure palette a little bit of grey edge a little cranky maybe not enough sleep perhaps they move across the heavens with a purpose with such speed it seems maybe he is traveling within some magical weather channel blessed time elapsed photography exhibit at the exploratorium

not only does he glimpse them flying past his open sun roof not only does he catch them winking at him suggestively he also contributes he complements he leans back his head he sends big rasta wafts floating upward and onward

puff-la

it's a wondrous world not a bad day for a drive not a bad day to be alive hey diddle diddle jumping over the moon jumping the shark whatever either or

phat hand-rolled joey filter to lips smoke to lungs tingle to mind and body an easing of the gas pedal sun poked and jabbed through the windows driving through a plate full of sparkles and smirks

lo the hint of skin brushing skin still fresh

the tickle of tongue tattling secrets never to be told only to taunt tease til maybe tomorrow some tomorrow someone's tomorrow

humma humma ding dong din faux sayonara sends the mix to loop to groundhog day to the doorstep of deja vu

just another southern born middle aged white male wannabe redneck cracker hippie punker hipster hepster sacrilegious spiritualistic pseudo intellectual pretender to the throne behind the wheel of his late model beemer in third gear near redline not a complaint not a single whimper or protest the ipod full of tunes he recognizes but cannot name or claim any sort of relationship with other than some unrequited need for immediate gratification that expeditious satisfaction granted by some instant internet moment of i'll take one of those and i'll take it now thank you very much

the crisp march air reaching down through the roof through the open wound slapping him in the face like bruno the barber his pink palms slick with aqua velva

wintergreen sting

to remind him tis time to break from his quietude and rejoin the world

zion i and jah

come down off the mountain deliver the tablets thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife forgive me father for i have sinned ain't no sunshine when she's gone

he glances to his left as the vehicular stream approaches the ess curves before the tunnel

short red wine stain of a car some chevy cavalier hyundai kia mazda something or other with vague nevi of confused metallurgy several smudges not really knowing if they should be the dull burgundy or the freshly oxidized flakes of corrosion the venn diagram of the two so subtle as to suggest some sort of arranged marriage some sort of symbiosis

mistletoe hiding in the crotch of the old oak towering over the side yard

he glances to the left just as the rust bucket sidles up next to him just as a cute young twenty something sitting passengerside backseat glances right a large colorful buttplug of a blown glass pipe sliding from her lips followed by a billow of smoke and a smile as she sees him remove the joey from between betwixt his teeth it too followed by his own billowing shroud

a temporary fuzzy envelope hiding his lecherous leer for one brief second swirling about before whisking upwards and out the sun roof

seminolish semaphores

puff-la

sending suggestions signaling his smug complacency devoid of any intention other than thought and theory oh darlin' if he may if he might have this wish tonight

she waves a childish finger wiggling of a gesture teeth broad and white she reaches forward taps the shoulder of the scraggly bearded pork pie wearing black tee shirt adorned hipster headbanger with his ass attached to the front bucket doing the whiplash while playing knick knack paddywhack give a dog a bone on the dashboard

he turns left dazed and confused shrugging a little what the fuck interrupting a knick a knack then he too glances right grins that sly stoner's grin toothy and knowing spoils the moment and he knows he spoils the moment how does he know the boy just does

he just does

and a sprinkling a spritzing

stretched not squeezed

the season just can't make up its mind it rains it doesn't now it is right now it's raining it's saturday afternoon and the clouds they gather like a tantrum unleashed yeah it's going to rain yeah it's raining

pulling down into fourth he passes the bus on the right lips like wine passes the vee dubya camper on the left with a burp and a belch the current of the stream does the big mix the big stir the big weave moves them both on through the ess curves through the yerba buena tunnel and out the other side

random acts of sanity and all that

Jesup, Part the Twelfth (and something new)

jesup part the twelfth read by jimbob



and ron johnson he believes that he'll go find sally he'll find her and he believes they'll get together

and they'll fuck

they will make out and they will touch each other and they will pinch and tickle each other and kiss and bite and nibble and giggle

and they'll fuck

sometimes they'll fuck in his truck parked down by the river out through the woods back in that little clearing where one night when it's raining and they can't get into the back into the truck's bed when they stay in the cab and the steam from the outside and the steam from the inside cause the metal roof to sweat and drip and in the dusky dawn of the dashboard light scramble her sandaled foot knocks off the rear view mirror and she bumps her head on the steering wheel and raises a whelp so big the next day she has to brush her hair back into an off kilter pony tail claim to her mother that it is fashion

during these times these weekends these holidays they will not talk much at all they will hardly ever speak have no time for conversation the notion of the spoken word of language lost to the nuance of whimper and moan there is no room for any such see spot run

ron he'll come driving over late in the evening he'll find sally about to leave her friends those friends of sally that ron doesn't really know jesup being small but rather cliquish and set in its ways

and sally

she will be about to leave

this crowd her friends

she'll wander off

coy

tipsy

knowing

she'll hop right up into the truck his truck they'll drive off sometimes down to the river sometimes over to the elks club pond over round back near the edge of the pine woods sometimes out back in the parking lot behind the kmart sometimes the best times they'll go to her house if perhaps her parents are off away for the weekend maybe away down at the lakehouse

yeah sometimes the best times they'll go to her house her home a big rambling two story with a wrap around porch set in the middle of what used to be an old pecan grove

they'll run up the wide staircase to her room her room all the way upstairs in the converted attic with the peaked ceilings and dormers providing pockets and nooks and crannies for the day's heat to have settled and simmered to linger long past dinner and their clothes will be off before they hit the last step and they will fall upon her bed together arms around each other grabbing at each other and she so wet and he so hard and his cock will slip will slide tab aa slot be and they will fuck

long giggling loud

and ron and sally they will have at it with wild wiggling abandon crazy old fashioned teenage acrobatic hanging on for dear life desperate fucking rolling around on the white cotton sheets swimming through the clouds of humidity the day's diaphoresis pouring from bodies all a'blur stirring sweat and semen and spit and venom and juices of all sorts into a frothy attempt

to find the love

that should be that is supposed to be

that really can be if only they let it

if only if only if only

they could believe

but the fire of youth oh now it does burn hot sizzles bacon in the pan radiator bursting blacksmith banging all a'glow how can such heat persist where can it go from here how do they find that place where do they find that spot where do they find that open window where they can simply look out see the world feel the world breathe it in take a deep breath

let go that sigh that it's all gonna be all right

that comfortable sigh

shoulder lifting exhaustive god thank god that part's over thank god they can pause still the heart do the eye gazing thing hold hands go the movies maybe plant a garden paint a fence think about finances rent groceries cable tee vee shop for a new washer dryer combo find the right diaper service montessori school ballet lessons little league braces

like keith and julie who got knocked up when they were all juniors last year who got married while keith got his gee eee dee so he could say yeah i graduated keith he went to work at his old man's television and appliance repair shop while julie got big and skinny and angry and sad

keith and julie who moved out to live at julie's family's house out by the lake

keith and julie who would sometimes come by to parties and julie would peck on keith about drinking and julie would peck on keith about smoking dope and keith would sneak out past the edge of the crowd sneak outside by the garage sneak out on the deck say he was going to go take a leak he'd pop a beer and he'd smoke a joint and he'd come sulking back into the party and julie would give him that look that told them all that telegraphed the future to all who paid attention who bothered to notice

keith and julie barely eighteen and they they were already bored and the sad part the really sad part the part that scared the shit out of everyone the terrifying part is that they weren't even angry bored they weren't the bored that they had been a year ago that i'm so fucking bored i just want to get drunk and fuck and fuck things up kind of bored no they weren't angry bored they were accepting bored they were settled bored they were so what the fuck

and ron and sally they see keith and julie and ron and sally they fight to keep the flames ablaze they keep the fires so fucking hot walking across that south georgia asphalt hot gun barrel hot firecracker hot

ron and sally they see that they have plenty of time the road it's long the road ain't got no end they got plenty of time dancing down the road way down the road should they live that long ron and sally they drink down the future in big thirsty gulps

even when they sleep that long deep curled up in each other's arms war weary afterfucking sleep beneath the ceiling fan whirring through the still they burn they burn hot

blood pouring from a wound hot the feel of the deer's heart cut fresh from the kill hot

Jesup, Part the Eleventh

and ron johnson yeah he'll end up hanging with his friends doing the shit that he and his friends do but toward the end of the night when things wind down his mind well his mind will begin to focus on the true reason for coming home his mind his body his cock they all converge on that one true reason for making the drive down highway and byway and back road and on into town

for ron johnson he believes in the one truth that bodily truth

yes he do believe he do believe yes he do

ron johnson he believes he was taught to believe in god the father almighty the creator of heaven and earth and in jesus christ his only son our lord

ron johnson he do believe in the father the son the holy ghost he believes in purple haze blotter acid peyote mushrooms and lsd created by the hand of man himself he believes in moses mohammad buddha vishnu he believes in the blessings of her sacred goodness the kind green bud he believes in the power of love he believes in family he believes in the ultimate goodness in mankind he believes that

evil exists

in everyone

ron johnson he believes in the holy act of fucking he believes in grabbing a handful of hair of the willing and bringing her down onto his phallic being for sacred consumption he believes in the holy act of wiping his ass he believes in jacking off with wondrous abandon he believes in picking belly button lint out of his fucking belly button while he contemplates world peace while he contemplates when he might next jack off yet again

and again

ron johnson he believes in coughing up a big loogie spitting it into the gutter and continuing on his way ron johnson he believes that

love lasts

until a person just don't want it to last anymore and even then it

lingers

ron johnson he believes that he doesn't do enough to end the misery that permeates the world he believes that he eats more than his fair share he believes that he shouldn't wear leather maybe he shouldn't eat meat he believes that he could have given the fucker on the corner a dollar without blinking an eye he believes yes he believes as edmund burke said that all that is necessary for evil to succeed is for good men to do

nothing

and ron johnson he fucking believes in nothing he believes in everything he believes nay he knows that he is confused about what to believe

his momma she taught him one thing his daddy he taught ron johnson another thing his cousins and friends they taught him some things that haunt him to this day the church of his youth hell they taught him shit that he just could not fathom let alone believe

ron johnson his teachers they taught him to believe in the flag and all that she represents he pledges allegiance to this fucking piece of cloth sewn by some old white woman for which it stands one fucking nation of crazy fucking people who could give a flying fuck about anyone else liberty and justice for everyone except those that don't fucking deserve it hey woman whip me up some broad cloth make it kind of colorful whip me up something that i can wave around something that the boys will lay down and die for

ron johnson his teachers taught him

to believe in the innate goodness of these united states of america they taught him to believe that once old king george was not a jolly old soul not a jolly old soul was he and all of the fucking limey redcoat motherfuckers were evil incarnate but later through the triumph of redemption and the miracle of forgetting the past these chaps they ain't so bad now hey they are white and speak english well most of them do

ron johnson yeah he believes the wiccan rede bide the witch's law ye must in perfect love in perfect trust fulfill and ye harm none do what ye will what ye send forth comes back to thee so ever mind the rule of three yeah yeah when oh when will the werewolves of london be smote with the

silver bullet

or three when oh when will the devils be brought before god to testify when will they be dragged through the streets behind the chariot of apollo

ron johnson he closes his eyes and counts to three

one

two

three

and ron johnson he wonders when will she the goddess of love lust and loathing bring him up on charges of not giving a shit when will she drive the nails through his palms his ankles his hips when will that goddamn bitch go ahead and get it over with when will this cunt of a goddess stop squatting over them all pissing her beliefs pissing all over ron's beliefs

ron johnson he knows oh he knows it's all in god's plan who was conceived of the holy spirit born of the virgin mary suffered under pontius pilate was crucified died and was buried and

then the sun went away and the dogwood tree became what they know it to be today and lightening struck and it struck and it struck and it struck goddamn it still strikes today the lightening struck when the europeans fucked up the new world when the europeans fucked up africa when turks slaughtered the armenians when the germans and the brits and the french kicked the shit out of each other when the japanese slaughtered the chinese when the germans slaughtered the jews the gays the gypsies when the americans dropped fire on the germans when they dropped hell itself on the japanese when the jews ran the arabs out of jerusalem when the chinese fucked up the koreans when the chinese fucked up the tibetans when the americans helped the vietnamese laotions cambodians fuck themselves up when the world stood by and watched them fuck themselves up when the arabs fucked their women up when they continue to fuck themselves up oh yes it do

lightening strikes and fire leaps

all around them while they all play their respective fiddles play that funky fiddle white boy yellow boy brown boy black boy

all in god's plan he who descended into hell the third day he arose again from the dead he ascended into heaven he sits at the right hand of god the father almighty

whence he shall come to judge the living and the dead

yeah ron johnson he believes he believes that he will be judged yes he will be judged but not by these motherfuckers in jesup he will not find twelve men who will be his peers he will not find twelve angry jurors that will hesitate to place his sorry neck into the noose he will not

believe in the holy spirit the holy catholic church the communion of saints the forgiveness of sins the resurrection of the body and life everlasting he will not no he will not believe in anything except the bloodied bodies that he sees on the television screen he will believe in anything that walter cronkite says is righteous he will believe in marsha and the brady bunch he will believe that raquel welch has righteous drunken tits that deserve not his lips but his teeth he will believe that the only desperate housewife is the one who has not tasted his cock he will believe anything that euell gibbons tells him about the holy down home sanctity of homespun americana

ron johnson yeah he believes he do he do believe oh lawdy yeah he do believe