Wednesday, February 08, 2017

Zozobra as Trump

A 1985 poster of Zozobra, Santa Fe's 'Old Man Gloom', shows the type of hairdo this years Trump/Zozobra will have. 



Sunday, February 05, 2017

Santa Fe Provocateur

In Santa Fe the old Berkeley street adage on Telegraph Ave was 'You can't tell (who are) the agents without a program.' This is really true especially around Cerletti Park and especially during the Legislature. Oh you don't know Cerletti Park ... Fountainhead Rock in downtown, Water and Don Gaspar.  The place has become a hang out for crazies, bums and dopers. The crazier they act and the more grungy they are, the more likely they are cops or spooks or informants.
Unlike my "plumbing" as former Mayor Sam Pick ("without an r") would say, my street sense doesn't get softer with age. Feeling, knowing and caring about the 'program' that is being run on a your neighborhood or your City or your Country makes it hard not to respond.

The more connected an apparent street person is, the more the cops' Dicks get limp. The cops become excuse makers for the implanted provocateur who is out to 'sample by example'.

This sliver of a City of Santa Fe park is the responsibility of at least a half dozen Municipal Departments including the Police, Parks and Rec., Arts Commission, Maintenance, Parking, and complaints, handled by Constituent Services ...and of course the Mayor and City Council.
 The entire race of lazy irresponsible City Employees are the responsibility of a somewhat wimpy City Manager.



video










Cut to: Super Bowl Sunday
I'm driving past Prep on may to that horrible Trader Joe's store having decided not to go downtown and take pictures of the nut-cake terrorist stationed down the street from Fountainhead Rock. He is  the big blond guy who chalks the sidewalk and tries to talk in tongues, not the best part of his performance. But the better angels of Tao, not Taos, told me to forget it and go check on my sister-in-law who was feeling crappy. But right there where Jill, the mean St. John's librarian, would run I saw my good old friend Mayor Gonzales vigorously walking with a friend and his dog.

"I've been meaning to come talk to you Mayor. But I want to finish a painting of you that I'm working on."


Clearly the guy did not want to even see me no less chat.
Through a open car window I cut to the chase. "You got to do something about Cerletti Park."
"We did (blah blah) and (blah blah) we've got to do more" said the soft hunk of a Mayor. His partner and the dog said nothing. He did not inspire me to finish the painting.
























Friday, January 13, 2017

Zozobra 2017: A Trump Effigy?

After the Santa Fe City Council failed to pass an anti-Trump resolution the word spread that Kiwanis, the sponsors of Zozobra was considering making the famous world's largest marionette of 'Old Man Gloom' whose burning starts the annual Santa Fe Fiesta might be made in the likeness of Donald Trump.



Every September crowds of over 40,000 people watch and cheer when Zozobra which is stuffed with old bills,  divorce papers, burnable bad memories and fireworks is publicly ignited. Over the years since the late artist Will Shuster started the tradition of Old Man Gloom has been made to look like or represent a different villainous characters, real or imagined.



WWII Zozobra mocking Japan's Emperor

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Mass Psychology of Fascism: Trump Family Sexual Repression

I know that someplace I have the little revolutionary pamphlet from the 60s titled The Mass Psychology of Fascism with writings by Wilhelm Reich and the subtitle being something like "The More I Fuck, the More I Want to Make Revolution."

Reich's original book about Fascism asked why people would choose an authoritarian government even though it was obviously against their self-interest?  The answer he suggests is early sexual repression in  the family by the parents. For his suggestion Reich got his books burned during the 30s both in Germany by the Nazis and in Russia by the Bolsheviks and in 1956 a court in the United States ordered the book burned ... I should be so lucky.

Sunday, January 01, 2017

"I'm A Russian Zombie"

I woke up today and my machine told me, "It's 2017 and I'm a Russian Zombie"

The udder joy I use to feel in the early days of my relationship with my computer are gone. Lost for ever. No more excitement watching the hit count go up on my stat counter for my blogs or the fun I had backtracking where those hits came from. Life and blogging for me now is like a ride in a human-less Uber owned vehicle taking me where they want you to go.

Before Facebook I never ever doubted that the word, language and the First Amendment would save us. But for sure 'Information Technology' is killing us and our religious belief in politics are damning our spirits and minds to a kind of hell.


Ebay disallowed the images of the 60's posters I was selling because they were offensive ... really?



Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Tom Udall the Next Governor of New Mexico ... NOT.


I am hardly ever wrong but this post from a week ago was dead wrong ... sorry.



There is no question that U.S. Sen. Tom Udall will be the next Governor of the State of New Mexico. Although no official announcement has been made by the long time Santa Fean, it will be by the first of of the year.

Last weekend our local good guy politician stopped by the Santa Fe
Artist Market at the Railyard for a picture with some local artists who sell there.



Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Wilt Chamberlain's Restaurant, Boca Raton

 
As a Hippie staying at Boca Lago in Boca Raton, Florida in the late 70s/early 80s, my only escape was to go down the street to play video games at the arcade attached to Wilt Chamberlain's Restaurant & Bar.  There were games of chance or skill including shooting free throws on a basketball court in the middle of the space. As a reward for ‘winning’  you would get little coupons or tickets that you could trade in for everything from little pieces of plastic junk with Wilt's name to great clothing and hats.


 I could never save up enough of those little yellow tickets for anything good. In fact when people redeemed large amounts of ticket the worker behind the counter would have to weigh them rather then count by hand to determine how many there were. Watching the young man weigh the tickets; figure the amount; print a voucher and then toss the redeemed tickets in the garbage, I wondered ... 'What did they do with the garbage?'

 The next morning I went to back alley of the mall on Glades Road where Wilt's place was and dumpster drove. Right freaking on top of the garbage bin was a plastic bag filled with little yellow tickets and intact vouchers to redeem hundreds of credits.

 That night I returned to Wilt’s operation with and armful of tickets bundled with rubber bands and got me a nice black cotton hoodie and a couple of baseball hats that I would give to my Dad when I saw him.
 The kid behind the counter gave me a voucher for the remaining now thousands of credits and as he proceeded to plop my bundle of coupons right into the the same garbage that I got them from ...  I said to myself “Don’t tell me I have to come back here again tomorrow.”

 The pattern of dumpster diving and redemption went on for a few days. Between Wilt’s and my retrieving and selling lost golf balls to the duffers at Boca Lago Country Club I was, as it were, sitting pretty.

 But as I approached my fifth day and the small amount of little yellow coupons had grown to boxes of tickets that filled my Mother-in-law's little condo that backed up to the 14th fairway, I was having moral crises.  I could now trade my garbage booty in for hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of merchandise from not only at Wilt's place but from the other stores in the mall that he had made a deal with.

(To be continued.)