Monday, May 14, 2007


The Rupture of Rapture Ranch

In the windy mingling of dust and sweat that is Crawford, Texas,tumbleweeds blow past the entrance to Prairie Chapel. A dilapidated pickup has been abandoned near the Sheehan encampment, bugged to the hilt, some say.

Others disagree. Lonesome Cal, a Crawford observer, draws a husky, tobacco-stained breath, then spits. "It ain't what it used to be out here," he says. "Somethin' special is dyin'."

Maybe it's the sour odor in the air of dreams having crashed and burned. Of an increasingly estranged Condi and Dubya. Or the strain in the fuck-buddyship of Paul and Shaha.

Once there was the merry tinkle of the saloon piano, the bright costumes of the dance hall Ph.D's., the roar of laughter that rode the river of red-eye.

Now only the lonesome whistle of a freight train pierces the stillness of the wind that buffets the desert chapparel.

Git along, little Dubya. It's your misfortune and none of my own.


There are pretty parts of Texas and ugly parts, as well. Crawford, (and Midland, too) I would place in the former catagory.

It is true that when Gen. Sherman spat, "if I owned Texas and Hell, I'd lease out Texas and live in Hell."

That part of north central Texas is mostly populated by meth-soaked hillbillies,truck stop queens, serial killers, polygamists, Baptist zealots, and Branch Davidians.

However, Crawford has grown to hate George Bush. Check out The Lone Star Iconoclast, the town's newspaper at:

Besides, George Bush is not a Texan.

"git along little W"

Faux Texan -

oh and he is "git" alright, and needs to get out NOW. I expect a melt down pretty soon myself in public (again)

I need to get the brain bleach though ..the mere thought of tangled payton place type goings on at Chili Verde or rancho notorious,club crawford, makes me quesy. I am thinking puppies,flowers, kittens,mini donkeys, anything else.
Zipdrive here...
The nearest big town to Crawford is Waco.
If I were asked to give the world an enema, I'd stick the nozzle in Waco.
It's flat, dusty, brown and as dull as Bush's wit.
Crawford isn't as fancy as Waco.
Ah, yes, Waco, Texas. It was there, one fine Christmas day, when by ex-sister-in-law and I had volunteered (along with several Jewish Community groups) to assist as non-medical staff at hospitals so those non-essential people could have the day off.

I was called to a floor to help a patient write a letter. I walked into her room, and found her dead. As in stone cold, for several hours dead. I went to the nurses' station. They were all a twitter, said "Well, we didn't think you'd come up if we said we needed help moving her to the morgue."

Later, the hospital chaplin checked my head for horns, then said to me, "Well, you did alright for a Kike."

And no, I didn't kill him.

And Waco, the name... so close to Wacko.
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