So apparently there is some rich-fuck rightwing racist shameless welfare-recipient Mormon-underpants-wearing rancher wantonly roaming his cows over public land for which he has not paid grazing fees for more than 30 years.
This nit-knock has deluded a Reality wherein the federal government don’t mean shit; only, so says he, shall he acknowledge the government of the State of Nevada. He’ll pay them, says he, the state people, to graze, his cattle, over land that don’t belong to him, but he won’t pay no feds.
Next, he’ll be raving on about how he gets to keep slaves.
‘Cause that is jist the sort of git, that this git is.
I am mostly— when not earning my crust in the folly of the law—painting oils, and planting seeds, these days.
Occasionally, I’ll peer into a tube.
That’s how I found out about this old nutbag Nevada sunburnt Mormon, who insists he can ejaculate his cows, for free, all over public land.
And my question, it is this: didn’t we already have the monolith?
Didn’t the true-life documentary film 2001: A Space Odyssey document the true fact that ape-men, they stood before a powerful passing planted black slab, millions of years ago, and thereby grew a brain?
So that we are actually millions of years beyond this yeehaw screaming till his lips bleed that he has a “natural right” to freely and flagrantly cornhole his cows on public land?
I am simply not allowing this crazed cattle-cornholer into my universe.
For he is like a species-appendix. Some weirdsmobile, completely shrunken and malfunctional organ, that may, several million years ago, have actually had a purpose. But, these days, we have no idea what that purpose may have been.
He is an old and desiccated desert rat, and soon he shall die. And, though his of-family people—who are many and manifold, because he refused in his lifetime to control in any way his loins—shall upon his memory weep, soon no one will remember anything about him.
Because, in the great wide open to come, all the land, will belong to everybody.
It is the bare beginnings of this, that this cornholing Rancher Retrovert, he cannot abide.
Too bad for him.
He’s already over.
That in the great wide open to come all the land will belong to everybody, is why, these days, I am planting these seeds.
We, of the seed people, we have gone long beyond all the galloping cornholing Rancher Retrovert horseshit that appears each day in the “news.”
This blah NSA blah Ukraine blah Nevada horse-ass blah blah blah blah.
Who gives a shit. None of them have ever once touched the monolith. They are so hundreds of millions of years behind the times. Just let them go. They don’t even actually exist. Close our minds to them: and they are gone. Willed-away wisps.
I am growing feverfew. Also, sunflowers. Moonflowers. Hot peppers. Potatoes. Some several different-one blueberries. I am growing passionflower—where it is not supposed to grow. Because I can, and I will. Dill. I am growing. Meadowsweet. Fairies. Magic. I am growing. Sage. Unto immortal May. I am growing. Madder. To dye all us good Celts red. As it has always been written. As even unto today it is done. I am growing. I am surrounding myself with garlic and arnica. I am growing. Buckwheat. It will be all and everywhere. I am growing. All the opium and wormwood: I shall plant thee: and then thee, shall, in vision, plant thyself in me.
I am growing.
I am no longer a sterile shrunken intertubes pod. “Living,” on a screen.
I am growing.
I am coming round here. Just about midnight.