« on: Today at 05:21:40 pm »
I have often referred to Nigel's trip here in 2010 as an angelic visitation, mostly because she wasn't covered in powdered coyote shit like everyone else, but also because she made the city behave for a day. Funny part about this is that - while a wise man knows "angel" doesn't equate to "safe" or "good" - you expect an angel to come from heaven.
Then you go to Portland, and it's like finding out that the Playboy Mansion is just a double wide trailer with a children's wading pool out back. Or that Norway is just an ice sheet with a few miserable Lapps wandering around, and all the cool shit you hear about it is nothing more than a mean joke played on gullible Americans by mean Danes. Or the Taj Mahal is made out of plastic and Buckingham Palace was bought by Donald Trump.
Worse, you learn that it's contagious. It hasn't stopped raining in Tucson since I got back. My office toilet doesn't work, and when you force whatever titanic movement down the pipe, the "breather" out on the public sidewalk erupts with toilet paper and the remains of the 3rd-last shit flushed. People have suddenly forgotten how to drive home, due to low visibility from the aforementioned rain. Monday's rush hour is still circling downtown, unable to leave the legal district and slowly running out of money for the food trucks. By this time next week, they'll all be dead, and their families will never learn their fate.
Even now, black clouds swirl above the refinery, waiting for me to go outside. Waiting to silence my talk of Portland and its Skinsaw Queen. But I can stay in this office for a long, long time. Oh, yes. I have a gallon of e-juice, 12 pounds of coffee, overweight coworkers, and A1 Sauce.
You may think this is funny or even a good thing, this displacement of Tucson by Portland, this venereal disease of the soul which I have brought home like a particularly bad case of the crabs. Yeah, laugh it up, assholes...But consider: If Portland has displaced Tucson, then where did Tucson go? Yeah, that's right. Learn to suck vacuum, you Goddamn barking monkeys. Learn to NOT LOOK when the cops are throwing up. Learn to ignore the detective crying into his bourbon. Learn to fear the ANGRY FIST OF GOD that is grinding you into the pavement while you helplessly shit yourselves.
Learn to love being Sheriff Joe's next-door neighbor.
Okay until the coffee runs out,