Whee! The People!

I woke up Wednesday morning with the earworm of the dopey, yet perfectly apropos Britney Spears'
song "Oops, I Did It Again!" At first, I was gong to distance myself from this observation, claiming that it wasn't a reference to myself and therefore not responsible for what had come down the same pike that's carrying Lady Liberty's head impaled upon it, but America itself. But nope, I'm culpable too as are we all in this land we call America, the Land of the (currently) Free and Home of the Knaves .

How the bloody hell did this happen, not once, but TWICE in this lifetime? It's not difficult to decipher since it's not a riddle for the ages like the chicken or the egg debate. If you've had your eyes and ears open, it's painfully obvious and has been since the beginning of this election cycle. Unfortunately, the tunnel vision that exists in this culture has resulted in another crushing defeat....to the same goddamn candidate. Lack of perspective, denial and basic blind hatred has ruined the election day for the Almighty Dems, this time in both the electoral college and the popular. Let me capitalize that word for emphasis: POPULAR. Donny won American Idol again. Can't claim Russian collusion this time around, though some are sure going to try. This is THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE, but I reckon it's just not your kind of people, is it?

I wrote out a big rant n' rave to give my un-learned opinions on what went wrong from Day One. Since Wednesday, enough has been written and commented upon more eloquently and insightful that I ever could that whatever I say will be redundant and/or piling on. In the grand scheme of things, my takes don't mean a thing cuz you ain't got that swing state, so I suppose I'll continue to shake my head in derision until it falls off my neck.

Besides, while I'm tempted, you're not supposed to kick anyone while they're down. It wouldn't do any good anyway since no one is listening. And becaus there is no joy in Mudville because Momala Kamala has struck out, there's so much wailing going on because, why, no one saw this coming? The Boogeyman is coming, the same Boogeyman you have created, demonizing Trump that he has been elevated to Thanos like status when he was nothing more than a cheap hood to begin with. Not anymore. You won't, but you should hand it to him. Under insurmountable odds, he has dodged bullets, survived felony convictions and lawsuits and never ending harassment to come out on top one mo' time. Guess what though? He's not indestructible no matter what you might believe. 

But if you continue to make excuses, most of them egregious and misguided, you will make the all too apparent divide in this country even wider. Start whistling "The Battle Hymn of The Republic" unless you can't get over the agony of defeat and plan to just roll over and take it.

My advice is simply this: Pay attention. Gain some perspective. Stop listening to celebrities. Learn something from the mistakes that were made. And I'm not going all Rodney King on you with his tearful declaration of "Can't we all just...get along?" The sincerity and naivete of that statement after he was nearly beaten to death by LA's not so finest back in the day didn't hold water then either. Couldn't hurt to try though. And it might be a good idea to fight for something other than your right to party.

Believe it or not, it's not the end of the world as we know it. Not yet anyway. As for when, that's up to you. And me too. 

 

Tales from the Ville: Tule Flats-The Election

The Fourth of July in 1979 fell on a Wednesday, but Tule Flats Ghost Town would be open for
business even though it was normally a weekends only operation. Therefore, we had something extra special planned for this holiday extravaganza.

I haven't a clue who came up with the idea, but it was decided that we would have an election that day to name the Mayor of Tule Flats. The field for candidates was wide open-anybody and everybody could run if they so desired, provided they run for this prestigious office in character. We all had been given free rein to create a town character for ourselves. Bill Humphreys became Humphrey Williams (clever boy), the town banker. Ed Thorpe was Ned Tate who ran on the Law and Order ticket. I had a couple of different characters, one of them being Al Jennings, a real-life western train robber who later became an attorney. (look it up) But in the gunfight known as "Poker Chip", I played the Storekeeper role as a Swede named Sven Bjorn Bjorg Gunther and he is who I chose to throw my hat into the ring with. 

So those became the main three vying for town mayor. We were to run our campaigns throughout the day on the Fourth, culminating in some fancy speechifyin' in the gazebo out before our potential voters. Grant-Lee Phillips wrote Bill's-or Humphey's, rather-campaign song that he sang as they paraded down throughout the town.

Humphrey Williams

He's our man

Best darn throughout the land

Humphrey Williams

Rah Rah Rah

And best of all he wears no bra!

In a nutshell, meaning his amazingly creative head, that was our Grant-Lee.

As we all stood on the gazebo, ready for our campaign speeches, a dark horse candidate entered the picture. Accompanied by a bevy of bombastic beauties all dressed to the nines in hotsy-totsy saloon girl costumes, here came Goldie Pollard, all decked out in full regalia as though starring in a Mae West one-woman show. She took the stage by force of her sheer personality and announced to the crowd that she indeed was running as a write-in candidate for mayor. Her campaign promises included no restrictions on gambling, the sale of alcohol and...wait for it...open prostitution. 

Goldie won by a landslide.

There was no way any of us would attempt to contest the results because I think we all voted for her ourselves. Maybe some of the townsfolk and one of the business partners took issue with the "open prostitution" line, but that's politics.

Later that night, we all celebrated Goldie's win and it was the first time the ghost town and the Palace Showboat merged together as one. It wouldn't be long before some of us would take up residence there, but right then, we were two separate entities that found common ground and that is due to the one person who brought us all together, the one (and only) duly elected Mayor of Tule Flats Ghost Town, the Honorable Goldie Pollard. 

As we partied long into the night in the saloon that night, one person joined us who never had before, our very own Sheriff John. In, all the years I had known him up to that point, he had always kept to himself, the lonesome cowpoke he had always bee. Here he was though, drinking, laughing and celebrating with the rest of us. In fact, at one point, we spouted lines from our gunfights, adding a plethora of swear words to not only spice things up, but to crack ourselves up until the cows came home.

Sheriff! Sheriff! Have you seen the sheriff?

What the fuck do you want, you little asshole?

High comedy indeed and a perfect end to the holiday, or any other day for that matter.

That Fourth of July, we didn't need fireworks. We made our own.

Next up: Chapter Four-I SHOT THE SHERIFF

MORE TULE FLATS AND POLLARDVILLE STORIES AT:

TALES FROM THE VILLE

Fail to the Chief

And so the big bad Boogeyman was driven from the land and disgrace. 

Everything was good in the world once again. And we lived happily ever after. 

Uh-huh. And everything changed on New Year's Day.

The final days of Donald F. Trump as 45th President of these here United States have been excruciatingly despicable and absolutely miserable 

for the country and for life itself. So you expected any less? How exactly was this different from the previous 3 years and change? But he's gone now so it's really not nice to speak ill of the dead. (Well he's dead to me) 

And yet who can we blame for this nightmare? Those who elected him? Well, I didn't vote for him, that's for damn sure. Little Hilly Clinton didn't get one outta me neither. So, wait I'm to blame? Face reality, you ideaological lemmings. I live in Oregon. You know, the Left Coast? This went to Hillary and so did her electoral votes. So shut up about that already. In my addled mind, she was a rotten candidate, so focused on breaking the glass ceiling that she forgot every single person below, propping her up would be cut to ribbons by the shards falling from above. She and the Dems underestimated Benito Trumpellini and he ran away with the win. I refuse to accept that my non-vote was in any way 

responsible for his victory. I feel exactly the same way when I voted for Ralph Nader in 2000. Did that serve to elect GW Bush as number 42? I think not. Besides, I don't have to justify my vote to anyone. What's that? Fuck me? No, fuck you. 

This time around I voted for Joltin' Joe Biden. Now I wasn't exactly Riden with Biden, I wasn't even Abiden with Biden. It was more like anybody but the Trumpasaurus. I would have voted for my coffee table but I wouldn't it wouldn't have had enough electoral votes to make a diff. I have issues with Joe. I also am not a big Kamala fan. But they were enough to get the job done and, hooray, they win the day. Will I rue the day I made this pick? Probably not. I stand by this choice too. Believe me, I hate having to vote for the lesser of two evils as I have had to do in most elections. But I'll own it as I have with all the rest. (See? I can adult too. So NYAH!)

But was the election fixed? Frankly, I think there were some improprieties. Watching the results, there sure seemed like a truck load of Biden votes got dumped in all at once, though that was just a casual  observation on my part. (I'm not above rockin' a few conspiracy theories of my own) The whole thing was a mess due to this pandemic, voting by mail, et al. Nobody was on the same page because a)no one knew what book it was in and/or b) they can't read. What a boondoggle.  And are the Democrats capable of the shenanigans they were accused of? Oh, heaven forfend. The end result was that Biden would have won regardless of this mess. It was still close real close. A nail biter as it were. As  far as the election being stolen, I'm saying no. Trump digging in his heels and refusing to concede was the delusion he propagated to the world. It served to fuel those goddamn deplorables of his to the point of internal combustion, egged on by Fox News and right wing-nut talk show hosts and well, look what happened in DC, the darkest moment in American history since 9/11. And that disgrace is what Donnie left on. Look where it got him. Another impeachment. A two-fer, as it were. again no surprise. His whole rise to power had been accelerated on the Birther lie, so why shouldn't his collapse and fall be triggered by another? 

Meet the new host of The Apprentice reboot!

Donaldo has always been his own worst enemy. He could actually have won a second term if he actually put in the time. But instead his narcissism, did him in hoist by his own petard. Check out the first debate with Biden when he went Full Tilt Buffoon. Just as everyone under-estimated him in 2016, he over-estimated himself this time around. He thought it would be a cake walk over Sleepy Joe, but he didn't do his homework and decided to coast on his persona, but the shtick after four years had grown stale and worn-out. He exposed himself, not as he did to Stormy Daniels, but to the electorate, as a cheap B-movie thug, bullying his way into the hearts and minds of only his most devoted acolytes. As such, the Trumpster went into the dumpster.

Now he's gone and Joe is in. Okay, what next? Back to 2016? Sorry, there is no do-overs in life. The damage has been done. We're still as the divided as we were two weeks ago. The healing can only begin if we begin to fill in the gaps. That is, of course, if they wish to be. Half the nation voted for Trump. What percentage of those were part of the Capitol mob or supported them is anybody's guess. Many did not, but are still disenfranchised at this moment in time. And what about the Left who did nothing bitch, moan and whine about every single thing this so-called President did each and every minute of each and every single day? Their hateful addiction will be tougher to kick than Don-Don's Twitter habit. 

Donny Do-Wrong claims he'll be back The Republicans won't have him. He's screwed that party seven ways to Sunday. A third party, perhaps? Maybe Don will invoke the spirit of Lyndon (the Douche) Larouche and give it the old college try. And if history has taught us anything:

One thing is certain. Donald Trump will go gently into that good night. Like a badly-conceived sequel to an inexplicably successful shitty movie, he will return. 

Threat or promise? You make the call.

Cutting Both Ways

Ah, that fabled double edged sword swings again, slicing and dicing anything and everything in its path.

I don't post much about recent events on social media. Sure, I want my voice to be heard as much as anyone because I too am under the delusion that what I say matters and since I am beloved on-and-off-line, the world is waiting with bated breath for whatever brilliant bon mot I am about to present free of charge. But be sure to like me, love me, send me a virtual hug from your adorable emoji of choice. But for Odin's sake, don't challenge me or my valued opinions in any way, shape or form because I won't engage you in a spirited debate, at least not in an reasonable span of time.

You see, I usually get online before work, not spending more than a half-hour total. If I were to post some comment stating "Trump is going to have us all killed his first year in office" or "Hillary should be led away in chains", it is bound  to get a reply that I won't be able to answer for at least nine hours. I'd get "You liberal morons are all alike" or "St. Hillary will save us all", then when I answer with "Go fuck your mother" or something else just as pithy when the sun goes down, the piss has been totally taken out of it and render the entire enterprise moot.

(Hey, wait a second. I might be on to something.)

But honestly, kiddies, this hit and run tactic, if I were to engage in it, reeks of cowardice, the kind that the Internet perpetuates on a regular basis. That is, of course, if I didn't respond at all. And if and when I do, the chances for a civil discussion on any potentially touchy subject in any of these forums are slim, fat and no. It's an increasingly niche society and we're all breaking off into our like-minded groups, ready to jump down the throat of any dissenter with an even slightly different point of view. But anyone who agrees with me can sit at the cool kids' table anytime they want. C'est la guerre.

On the other hand (or blade), I haven't said anything lately because I don't know where to start and have this sinking feeling how it's going to end. Not to get all FDR here, chillun, but fear is one of the main problems if not the core to the whole shooting match (morbid pun intended). Fear is a crippler. it closes your eyes, your ears, your voice and your mind. It weakens you to the point where you can do nothing at all. You wait for it all to blow over like a bad storm, only it not going to go away, is it? It keeps returning again and again, worsening with each cycle. Soon you won't be able to hide any longer and when it's time to finally cry out for help there won't be anyone to hear you. This fear of what-each other? The outside world?  No. Our own shadows will do us in and there ain't a dang thing you do about it because it'll too late, baby. 

Then there's the guilt factor, too. If I don't comment about Orlando or Dallas or whatever wretched man-made disaster has occurred in the world, I feel like a wimp for not speaking up. The same goes for the fallout every blithering idiot feels compelled to share with the masses, which is generally the case of preaching to the choir, rousing the rabble into the ugly mob it most certainly is. But at least I get to learn a few fun facts along the way. Thanks, everyone, for schooling me that the AR in AR-15 doesn't stand for assault or automatic rifle. It does stands for something the public shouldn't be allowed to own. Like a bazooka. Might be fun to shoot, but I don't want my neighbor to wield one on the Fourth. I've held my tongue-or typing finger-about this sewage dump known as an election season because the bile I would hork up from the pits of my soul will damage my keyboard. But if I lay down some plastic, I will. Black lives matter. Blue lives matter. Let's face it. We're all black and blue from the pummeling this world gives us on a continuing basis since we've forgotten or never learned to defend ourselves.

(So what exactly is the thrust here, Cherney? You're going back and forth like a crackhead's racquetball tournament.)

I suppose I want to direct this to those extreme Facebook friends o' mine who run the gamut from soup to nuts. I've got God-fearin', gun-lovin', raw meat eatin' conservatives on one side, red diaper doper baby liberals on another, crazed conspiracy theorists so far on the left they make Abbie Hoffman look like Roger Ailes over to one side and survivalist snickerdoodles who are waiting for instructions to attack from the Big Giant Head  bringing up the rear. (Diversity. It's what for dinner.) I try to respect everyone's opinion and not delete them entirely because I disagree with any given post not matter how insipid, offensive or out and out motherfucking stupid I find it to be. This is nothing more than passive aggressive culling on this increasingly Anti-Social Network. But not responding to your nonsense isn't helping either. I'm going to start calling you on your bullshit. You see, I have a mouth and I must scream. Of course, these will only be my opinions too. And if you call me on my crap which will be expected  since I can jerk a knee with the worst of them, it may take awhile before I reply. You'll have to be patient. Or you can be the answer to the age-old question, "How do you keep an asshole in suspense?"

Excuse me now. I've got a sword to sharpen, both sides now. Hope I don't cut myself in the process. But even if I do, let it bleed.

Bah-dump-bump!

How about that Barbara Walters doing the beast with two backs with the very married Senator Edward Brooke? Here's an exclusive transcript from their den of sin:

"So, Senator Bwooke, what kind of twee would you like to be? (zipppppp!) Oh, it's twue, it's twue! It's twue!"

Yep. That's our Baba Wawa, the original Lily von Shtupp.

What a twamp.

Bah-dump-bump!

Josh Brolin is George W. Bush in the new Oliver Stone movie. So you're telling me that Timothy Bottoms was too busy?

Bah-dump-bump!

Beyonce Knowles is preggers! By this time next year, she will be the proud mother of a Beyonce baby boy.

Bah-dump-bump!


I've got a hundred of 'em...

So let's segue from Bah-dump-bump to Bada-bing...(ew)

With THE SOPRANOS long gone, my appetite for gangland drama has been voracious as of late. THE DEPARTED filled the void for awhile and I find myself drawn to its flame like a retarded moth everytime it hits cable, which lately has been daily. Still, I need more more more as Andrea True once sang, so I've delved into the international market. Yakuza (the Japanese equivalent of the Mafia) films always foot the bill, particularly those by Kenji Fukasaku whose work includes SYMPATHY FOR THE UNDERDOG and the five part saga BATTLES WITHOUT HONOUR AND HUMANITY. I've been gaga for French crime mellers since the late great Jules Dassin's RIFIFI. My favorites among these have been Jacques Becker's TOUCHEZ PAS AU GRISBI (the English translation being DON'T TOUCH THE LOOT. Love it.) and Jean-Pierre Melville's LE CERCLE ROUGE.

But lately, I've been caught up in Chinese director Johnny To's films about the Triad gangs, ELECTION and its immediate sequel TRIAD ELECTION. These two cold-blooded tales are intricate in their story telling as well as crash courses in modern Chinese culture, particularly since the end of the British occupation. They are also extremely devious by nature. At one point, you're almost led to believe that a main protagonist is quite benign and almost humane in his depiction as the story unravels until he suddenly becomes the most sadistic character of the bunch. Chilling, thrilling and always fascinating, Johnny To's movies always delivered. Also check out To's FULLTIME KILLER with Andy Lau. And if you haven't seen THE DEPARTED because for some dumb damn reason you don't care for Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon and/or Jack Nicholson, then at least watch the orginal Chinese version, INFERNAL AFFAIRS, directed by Andy Lau and Alan Mak. It's still a good story. Scorsese just improved on it because, well, he's Martin Scorsese.

Lame comedy mixed with excellent recommendations.
What more do you want out of a blog?