Gloomy’s clapper

Thought you’d like to hear what I’m up to. I know you’re a big shot, hanging at yer office somewhere out there left, right, or in between. On your big shot planet. Way the fuck out there. Maybe you’re in one of them parallel universes I heard tell about. The Lobotomy Dude clued me to that possibility. Anyway, I thought I’d send you a little note. Let you know how I’m doing.

Why? I don’t know why. WTF….

I’m living on this little planet stuck like mudville on the outer edge of the Milky Way Galaxy. Maybe you’re on the other end. Wiki says it takes a dollar store light bulb’s light a hundred thousand years to reach from one end of the Milky Way to the other. A hundred thousand light years? That’s long ass road trip. Could take me a few billion years to reach your neck of the woods.

Unless you’re on a different galaxy.

Some egg-head with a Harvard PHD figures there’s a probability of maybe two trillion galaxies in the known Universe. What’s a trillion? A thousand Billion.

A million million!!!!

Reaching another galaxy could be a long long long ass road trip.

Man! This is a pretty big universe. I’m curious. They got cockroaches on your planet?

Probably….

I’m still curious. What’s beyond the universe?

Nothing, you say.

Time and Space started with a bang? Where’d you hear that? Okay…common knowledge.

But then you got these black holes that suck everything back into nothing. I’m correct in that assumption, am I? Good. Suck everything back into nothing.

Whole shebang seems pointless to me.

I mean, what’s the point of anything? A dog scratching his ass is more certain of his reality than we are.

So where are we going?

Nowhere?

Jesus Friggin Christ!!!!!

Excuse me for having this feeling the Rat Maze Universe is too vast. What’s the point of doing anything? Might just as well sit on your Butt and play the kazoo.

Maybe engage in a passtime that gives you solace.

Wow! Sounds like that’s the key! Stay busy.

I try to keep busy myself. I found a way to stay busy without doing anything constructive. It’s called Blogging.

Check out my pad

This planet I’m stuck on is called Earth. Germans call it Erde. Germans. They get everything wrong, except maybe Automobile design, Fascism and the practice of Genocide. Am I exaggerating? Yeah. Maybe a little bit. I was married to a German way way back in my youth. A marriage of inconvenience. We had a little dog she trained. Other than that? I don’t remember much about her. Other things I’d rather not think about are more pressing.

So you reach Earth. You got some gizmo that’ll get you here quickly. First thing you notice, we got cockroaches that look pretty much like the ones on your planet. This is heartening.

Second thing you notice, Earth is clogged with Human Beings. Way too many Human Beings. The planet is heating up thanks to the overpopulation of Human Beings. Scientists (the logical Human Beings) call this process CLIMATE CHANGE.

Republicans call it CLIMATE.

What are Republicans? Shit. I don’t even know anymore.

They used to look like this:

Now they look like this:

Trumpys

Where I live, here in Sausalito, we don’t have a lot of crazy Republicans like the gentleman with the steer hat. But there are a few. They’re called Trumpys. And it just so happens, my girlfriend is one of them. That’s right. My girlfriend Joan is a Trumpy.

This is not Joan. Rather, this is a fellow Trumpy that Joan admires.

I was gonna stick Joan’s picture up here but I thought better of it. She’d get pretty pissed off if she found out I was making fun of her.

I don’t know what I’m worried about. Joan doesn’t read my Blog. Just as she avoids anything in the ether that might be construed as liberal. How can this be, you ask? You’ll need to just trust me. Explaining the mind of a Trumpy is close to impossible. I don’t have time to go into it here. Back in the day, good people burned witches at the stake. The good people were the Trumpys, and the Witches were the Liberals. That pretty much explains the Trumpy phenomenon in a nutshell.

This picture representing Joan is one of Marjorie Taylor Greene. A Congresswoman from a district in Florida. That’s right. She’s one of the leaders of our country. A leader who believes in some pretty weird shit. LIke, for instance, the Frazzledrip Conspiracy. In that one, Hillary Clinton and former Clinton aide Huma Abedin were videotaped sexually assaulting a child and then ripping off the child’s face to wear as a mask in a Satanic blood sacrifice. The theory then alleges that Clinton ordered an assassination hit against the police officer who found the footage, named “Frazzledrip,” according to reporting from Media Matters.

I don’t know, that’s just one of her odd beliefs. See what I mean about Witches and Good People. Marjorie is one of the good people.

Anyway, I put her up here instead of a picture of Joan. Kind of makes Joan look like Dolly Madison in comparison…although Joan is an admirer of Marjorie Taylor Greene.

Trumpys are all around us

Most people in Sausalito and the Bay Area in general are Liberal minded to some degree more or less and vote Democratic by and large. People with money are naturally more conservative while broke players like me are on the progressive fringe. The gravitation is center left. Until lately you could count on the Bay Area to vote blue. Especially San Francisco, the epicenter of liberal politics.

Things have changed quite a bit. Nowadays you gotta be careful who you talk to. Trumpys will crop up seemingly out of nowhere, like pelicans.

They just show up.

You notice one.

Pretty soon they’re all around you.

My next door neighbor’s a Trumpie.

He lives on this Catalina 36. You don’t see him because he’s a Trumpy in a Liberal environment. They play it kind of sneaky…

Two boats over, on my port side, another Trumpy.

You don’t see him, either. This one’s a Brain Surgeon. You’d think a guy like that would know better. See what I mean about trying to explain the mind of a Trumpy? It’s maddening….

Anyway, that’s just two Trumpys on my turf.

I’m sure there’s more.

The Trumpy numbers are growing. Not quite a majority yet in my neck of the woods. But enough of them are around. Enough of them so that you can always count on one or two on any street, or, in my case, dock.

I’m not a Trumpy

Frankly, I can’t be bothered with Politics. There’s lots of people like me around. We’re called A-Political. We just want to be left alone. We see the futility of engaging in logical discussions with Fanatics, including Trumpys. What’s the point? They don’t care about logic. All they care about is getting what they want. They are the Good People. They will only be happy if everybody thinks like they do. When that happens the world will be a better place.

I have to admit that we the A-Political are part of the problem. If there is a problem. We are the enablers. We don’t stand up to The Good People…which allows them to proliferate…even though standing up to them is futile…you can’t win with the Good People. Unless...you kick their asses in a war!

Then you become the Good People.

I just hang on Scruffy

I’m an old Dude. If shit happens, it happens.

Being A-Political is a lot easier to justify when your an Old Dude like me. A Dirty Old Dude. The smell of the Hippie Sixties clings to me. Like, for instance, the way I live.

I hang on Scruffy.

Lately, I’ve been fixing him up.

Doing Brightwork.

Bird don’t give a shit. He’s A-Political too.

I plan to sell Scruffy and become a van lifer. Become Scruffy myself.

Live in this baby:

My soon to be vacation home. Scruffy Junior.

Well, but it’s taking me some time to get my ass in gear. I’m working on Scruffy. I need to start working on Scruffy Junior too. Get him spiffed up. Get rid of his rust and get him out there on the road.

I’ve been stalling. I need to get my ass in gear.

Being A-Political has nothing to do with it.

My mind is not so quick any more!

Old Dude fears

The years keep hitting me one after another. Like fast balls. I used to be a pretty good hitter…I mean thinker. And doer. I even have medals for the shit I used to do back in the day. Like this medal I won at the boardwalk for grabbing the gold ring on the merry-go-round.

Did I win it? Or did I steal it off the kid who won it? I don’t remember. I’m having a hell of a time remembering shit these days. My memory’s gotten so bad I need to write notes to myself. Like this one.

If I’m not careful Scruffy will explode.

I have fears. I fear if I’m not careful I’ll end up on the street.

Like this crazed dude. He sleeps right out in the middle of the path, like it’s nobody’s business but his.

At least he’s neat.

An unlikely fear

Another fear I have. I fear I could turn Trumpy and hang with these dudes.

BECOME ONE OF THE GOOD PEOPLE.

This is a highly unlikely possibility based on a ludicrous fear.

I should ask Eric Mummy for advice. He’s another neighbor of mine. Owns a nice day sailor. He stopped by my free booze counter yesterday. Not for a free shot of booze. He was shopping for groceries. Noticed me. Wondered why I’m at three Safeway stores he stopped in at on different days.

“I’m not at all the Safeway stores,” I explained.

I asked to take his picture. He demanded to know why.

“So they’ll know I’m at work,” I explained.

Eric Mummy.

Could be, he’s a Trumpy.

Does he look to you like a Trumpy?

I need to get off the subject. Thinking about the Good People is giving me a headache…

Maybe I’ll think about the Happy People instead.