A Brave New World…

It’s an amazing thing but we are, yet again, on the cusp of another New Year.

2009, the Chinese year of the Ox, in all it’s new-born glory, is swooping down upon us like the Ghost of Christmas Future and we may or may not be ready for what it has to show us. It seems the more I regress into my mid-40’s Peter Pan phase the faster time just keeps marching on relentlessly forward reminding me that I though I may have missed the battle with Time the Destroyer, the war is still looming. Lovers, I’m here to tell you I’m lucky I’m not some washed-out hack derelict with 3 bratty kids, two ex-wives, a receding hairline, a hard 60 lb. gut, two mortgages, an ulcer, a lifetime of shattered dreams, and a prostate the size of a Ruby Red grapefruit… I am one of the lucky ones… and I am eternally grateful for my thankless job working at the Death Star for Darth Goldstein and all the hell I swallow and burp up in my sleep like spiritual vomit… I am happy to have a lifeline no matter how strangulating and castrating it may seem… The fact is I can still shoot a load along with the best of them and for that I’m eternally grateful…

But even a spirit such as mine will not last forever.

(Ah, the trappings of a hyper-aware and mildly paranoid mind… I sooo need to be on psycho-actives… )

But back to the New Year. Remember, the beginnings of anything are the most delicate of times…

Of course on January 20th President Elect Barack Obama will take control of this bucking bronc we call a country and try to ride it back into the stables. He will inherit staggering debt, an economy on the brink of collapse, more un-tethered domestic spying power than any other new president has had in more than 30 years, two wars, and, like all good stepfathers who inherit a fucked-up family of 300,000,000, he simply rolls up his sleeves, pulls out his credit card, and keeps on smiling. As the first black president in American history Obie is more than just a symbol of change; he is the modern poster-child for the American Dream itself. He single-handedly, simply by winning the election (by ground-breaking use of technology and marketing strategies), has given us proof that anyone could aspire to and actually find himself or herself… president! A little hokey and Hallmarky but it’s funny because it’s true…

On February 17th, 2009 all TV stations in the U.S. will cease their analog broadcasts. We are now 3 years away from the end of the universe, if you watch the Mayan calendar instead of the View to get your Armageddon Report.

Some cretin motherfucker took the opportunity of the holiday chaos to shatter my driver’s side window on my new (for me) 99 Mercedes SKL 230 Kompressor hard-top convertible the night after Christmas. Nothing was taken (he or she was probably chased away by the alarm, though I didn’t hear anything even though I was home all night.) But what the fuck is that all about?? What is wrong with our modern society that makes people always want to screw other people’s shit up, especially the night after fucking Christmas?? Fuck you, inbred bastards! I worked hard for that car and have done everything to get it up to snuff in the last couple of months and here you are, some ICE smoking, STD spreading, non-deodorant-wearing, smegma-leaking, soup-smelling derelict with nothing better to do then fuck dogs and bust my window open… Fuck you. I hope your herpes get herpes, you simian ass-polyp… I just hope the syphilis has already sterilized you so I don’t have to shoot any of your stinky artful-dodger children when they follow your ill-taught lead…

Merry. Fucking. Christmas.

It’s unsettling to me but not really shocking because of what happened to me years ago while I was working at a now-defunct restaurant chain called Tejas Café here in Dallas in the early 80's. It was, of course, a Mexican food joint; so stands to reason that most of the employees both in the front of the house as well as the back of the house were… that’s right, Mexican… You’re keeping up. So, I, being not your common Spic and Span, cute, smart, and filled with dark energy and snarky observations, drew a lot of attention to myself from some of the more ‘socially challenged’ wetbacks I happened to work with. The kitchen staff was comprised of all illiterate Hispanic men who were more interested in drinking and fucking white chicks then repairing the world opinion of single Hispanic males in Dallas, Texas.

From the beginning they tried speaking to me in Spanish and, though I look the part, alas, I am a fucked-up Americanized Latin and can’t even speak my own vernacular. Each time I apologized and told them I didn’t understand, much to the shaking of greasy heads and the familiar curses they grumbled under their collective breath. But growing up with my multi-lingual family, I could understand a lot of what was said even though I didn’t have the ability to answer back. So I had an inkling of what was up. Finally, one day the head cook Fausto looked at me as said, “Fuck you. You’re ashamed of being Mexican. You can speak it, you just don’t WANT TO…”, insinuating in his 4-grade mentality that I thought I was better than them. Now, if they had asked me outright I probably would have agreed whole-heartedly. However, I was not a dick-wad to them, ever. I just wanted to do my job, get my money, and live my life. Hell, I HAD a life. I was the lead guitarist and songwriter in my own band, was writing up a storm for a now-defunct publication, and was dating half of Dallas. My father had just given me his old Cadillac diesel Eldorado that was in excellent condition. The car was more than a little ostentatious and turned the heads of the kitchen crew not in admiration but outright spitefulness.

I remember it was Christmas Eve and we were open for a short shift before leaving for the holidays. The kitchen guys who were constantly fucking with me were actually smiling and being kind of nice…I should have suspected something was up immediately. Sure enough, when I walked out to the parking lot that night my car was gone. I called the police and had to deal with all that crap on Christmas Eve. At the time in Dallas there had been a rash of auto-thefts and the police chalked it up to just another random act of thievery. They took some strange pleasure in assuring me that my car had already been parted out and was scattered all over the city in various parts shops by the time they arrived. Gee, I felt better already…(meh…) But I knew in my heart that Fausto had had one of his shit-heeled Mexican minions come and steal it while we were all working so as to not be implicated in the incident. It's amazing how smart a Mexican can be when he wants to...

They didn’t find my car until February 3rd. It had been abandoned in a field and had not been dismembered like Dallas’ Finest believed. No, instead someone had taken huge rocks and bashed all the glass in, ripped up the seats, pissed in it, and taken a sledge hammer to the body AS WELL AS TO THE ENGINE in a grotesque display of vandalism. I knew those stupid fuckers in the kitchen did it but I had no proof except for the shit-eating grins some of them would flash me every now and then. Cocksmokers. Now I know what it’s like to hate members of your own race.

It reminds me of a joke (which you will only get if you're a Hispanic male)...




What's the difference between a straight Mexican and a gay Mexican??

...about a six-pack...




...and that, my lovers, was the birth of Cordovaism…

And of course it’s always during the holidays when people strike out at those who have more than they do. Now, I’ve been one to cathect every now and then but I have NEVER destroyed someone’s property simply because I thought they didn’t deserve to have it. That is a fucked-up sociopathic mentality shared by the unintelligent. So. Not. My. Speed.

What is up with the masses in general? Do they just sleepwalk through life hoping they don’t walk off a bridge somewhere?? It amazes me how people are so quick to identify with something for fashions sake without regard for what that action signifies in reality…

Recently a romantic horror film was released, the horrendously-lit, ridiculously-written chick-flick adaptation of the soft-core vampire series called TWILIGHT. Overlooking the fact that it is simply riding the wave of (juvenile) horror resurgence led by Blood and Chocolate, True Blood, and Underworld 3, the film is a piece of shit fluff-n-stuff made for taking in the money of unsuspecting, under-sexed, over-imaginative young pseudo-gothic females 14-35 (BELIEVE ME, I WORK IN THE INDUSTRY, I KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT… that is an actual DEMOGRAPHIC!). Now, I’m not sure if you know this or not but the writer is a practicing Mormon and has written the entire vampire-keeping-his-hunger-at-bay thing as a rolling metaphor for sexual abstinence in the books, a concept that is at the heart of the Mormon social ideology (the joke I hear from a good friend who lived in Utah for 5 years as a rock drummer is that, though nefarious about keeping their hymens intact, except for masturbating, of course, to please the boys very few of the girls are hesitant to take it up the ass in the name of the ol’ in-out, in-out before marriage… Which reminds me, I really need to visit that city someday soon…). Anyway, as in the Catholic faith, 10% of all monetary earnings go directly to the church, a thing Christians call “tithing” (I call it ‘guilt for money’). For those of you who keep up with the Bill Paxton vehicle about polygamists BIG LOVE, these country folk aren’t like the fat city Catholics- they will get their cut come hell or high water. (though, not all of them actually look like Warren Jeffries or Harry Dean Stanton… thank the Lord…) And of course the Mormons are the main socio-political body that is pushing Proposition 8 through legislature. So if you say you are in support of gay marriage and you love the ability to choose the sex of your own life-partner and the flavor of your sexual lifestyle yet you still insist on buying the TWILIGHT books and watching that stupid drivel of a movie then you, my young friend, are shitting in your own mouth. YOU CANNOT SERVE TWO MASTERS. You must take a stance or stop proclaiming that you are an individual. You are nothing more than a gutless wonder who would rather throw your hard-earned money at you enemies than stand up and refuse to play the game. You are totally and irrevocably ineffective. Live with it. Or change. It’s your decision. If you don't give a fuck about anything and just want to get your rocks off, hey, I can respect that. JUST SAY IT. But please don't pretend you are innocent. Do you need superficial stimulation that badly?? Stop masturbating and reach for something real, for fucks sake. Stand up for something, and AGAINST something for the first time in your pathetic, simpleton, materialistic lives…

Or shut the fuck up and quit telling me your something special. Because YOU ARE NOT.

Of course, the new year is the PERFECT time for self-examination and restructuring. All is not lost, my loves. You have just become mesmerized by all that glitters like so many deer entranced by on-coming headlights. Nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t feel bad about where you are, just feel bad if you stay there. And yes, standing up for your real beliefs is frightening when we’ve spent our entire lives trying to integrate ourselves into a society that wants nothing more than for all of us to be the same. Yes, wear your hair funky, some will have tats, some will be conservative, doesn’t matter … As long as you stay within the boundaries that THEY IMPOSE, all is peachy. But once you start rocking the boat… that’s when all hell breaks loose.

People treat us like we teach them to. And my friends its time to take back your lives from your loved ones. You can’t really blame them for wanting you to give them your constant undivided attention. Hell, you’ve been running to them and wiping their asses at every whimper probably all your lives. In a huge way, you don’t even know how it’s killing you. The truth is you might already be dead and just not aware of it. (shades of Sartre, though the reality is usually a lot more banal than that…) But for those who know they are not fulfilled… this is another chance for you to get your shit together and demand your independence. It takes balls to tell your husband/wife/children/boss/mistress to fuck off and quit bleeding you dry when you are the one sticking the tube in their mouths… but it’s something you must do to realize you are not a babysitter, a cum-bucket, a meal ticket, but rather A PERSON with real FEELINGS and NEEDS and DESIRES that are not being met.

And friends, if you don’t look after your own well-being no one else will give a fuck either. They look to you to see how to act. So instead of saying “I’m ok,” tell the rotten bastards to "TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEIR OWN LIVES AND LET YOU FIND A SPECK OF HAPPINESS SOMEWHERE FOR GOD’S SAKE BEFORE YOU BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT AND THEN TURN THE GUN ON THEM!"

(Well, at least it sounded good...)

Or not. Stay there and be miserable for the rest of your time on Earth. Just don’t bitch about it.

You might wonder why a post entitled Brave New World would harp on unhappiness and fear… Because it is in this exploration that we actually find the missing elements of our lives. It takes courage to stand up on your own two feet and walk away. It is the most brave thing you will ever do in your life. And also the most rewarding. Again, many read my work and think me a misanthrope. Yes, in a way I am. But what I hate in society is not society itself but what we have allowed ourselves to become. We are no longer a society of individuals. We are cattle waiting for the slaughter. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not waiting around to be ribs and chop steak. I’m packing light and hitting the yellow brick road like Jack Kerouac and looking for happiness. I know it exists. I’ve seen it in glimpses. And I refuse to live without it one moment longer.

Hope you are the same…

So for the New Year I pray that you all muster up the courage to change what you can, find the serenity to accept what you cannot, and develop the wisdom to know the fucking difference. Bless you all. Tough love, even though scathing, is love in its most pure form. And though I hate what we have allowed ourselves to become, know, in my black little heart, that I, without a doubt, love you more than you love yourselves.

Let’s change that, shall we??

See ya next year…



♠ JC