RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Friday, March 25

The Doogie Howser - 03/25/11


#1: Watching Duke lose to end their season is always such a joy and treat, especially when Coach K goes into hyperventilating basketball Hitler mode during the game and is turning red arguing with refs with that vein in his forehead, Sieg Heiling zone defense calls to his point guard. It got me to thinking about other sports things I enjoy watching other feel misery with. #2: Whenever the Yankees lose, that's always a great thing, though them making the playoffs (which they usually do since basically half of the rest of the MLB is their quadruple-A team) kinda takes the fun out of it, because they might not lose once they get there. It's better when they don't even make the playoffs, and hopefully you have to drive somewhere at night in a vehicle without new-fangled radios, for hours and hours, so you tune into AM 660 The Fan and listen to the fucking mongoloid New Yawkers talk and talk and talk about it. That shit is more fun throwing empty Mickey's bottles at the rundown office building across the street when you live in the city. #3: As a Redskins fan (my strongest non-sensical sports allegiance), I always feel good in my heart whenever the public at large is exposed to what a clueless asshole bazillionaire Dan Snyder is. Ultimately though, I realize he will outlive me, so I kinda hope now the Redskins relocate to L.A. as part of Snyder's descent into scientology, and we get an expansion team without a racist nickname, something chill like the Washington Fuck Yeahs, with black and more black uniforms with highlights of like a barely dark red black, and we play in the NFC West because the new owner is a secret investor who lets John Riggins and Dexter Manley do all the talking for him, and they are like, "Fuck it, we don't care. We'll play all road games in Mexico if we have to." #4: They do play two games in Mexico, and Dexter Manley becomes leader of the Los Zetas cartel, and being he's from Houston, in a moment of multi-culturalism, he bridges the gap between cumbia rebajadas and screwed music. #5: Except it doesn't show up on the interwebz, because you my friend, are a punk ass for being on the interweb. In fact, Dexter Manley is already leader of the Zetas Cartel, and there already is a professional football team called the Washington Fuck Yeahs, and you can get both their home black and their alternate darker black home jerseys with the holographic sanskrit on the sleeves at finer more dilapidated flea markets everywhere. #6: You can also usually get at those flea markets a framed display of the picture of Biggie and Tupac together with a toy gun framed in the bottom in a little box. Those things are classy as fuck. I have made one of the Hatfields and McCoys with a little shotgun replica in the bottom, and wanted to make one of the Morrises and Shifletts, to try to bring peace to my beloved Blue Ridge Mountains, but it ain't happening. Plus, I get moonshine from a Morris, and he'd get all pissy about it. I couldn't even tell him I had a 5-year-old Shiflett kid on my soccer team two years back because he would've wanted to come to the games and fucked with the kid and his single mom. #7: Actually, as a kind of Walter Matthau-esque youth soccer coach, last year our U-8 team won the round robin on the last day of the season to be champions in our league. It was the first year they didn't give a trophy to the winning teams though. Still, my kids came through. I had a pair of twins who just straight tore it up, plus every other team had like 3 or 4 girls and I had 7, so we empowered them, and started every second half with all girls on the field, calling it our Girl Power line-up. Shit was tight. #8: Years ago, there was this chump ass born again coach dude who was way too into it for kids under 8, making them talk shit on the other teams with that 2-4-6-8 thing like the Yankees on the Bad News Bears. Our team was my usual ragtag assortment of misfits and oddballs that year as well, but we beat his team in the round robin to ruin his chance to be champion. He pulled some insider shenanigans to declare himself second place, even though we were tied in record for the day and we beat him head-to-head. He had that shit broken down to some fourth tiebreaker nonsense, even though I don't think anybody actually wrote down the scores and kept nothing more than who won/lost/or tied. #9: The kids I coached the first year I coached are all nearly teenagers now. It's weird when I see them around town. It's also weird being around a town for so long that people be knowing me like that. We have neighbors who hated us at first, the dude was a retired state troop who used to call my landlord about us not cutting the grass and having junk cars. Now we own this motherfucker, and I don't cut no goddamned grass, and got a tipi and a junk camper trailer in the back yard, plus some stank ass pigs snorting around, a dog that won't stay in the yard, chickens, Christmas lights still up in March, in fact lights wrapped around the tree in the front yard for random plugging in throughout the year as that's my Tesla Coil of Lounge. He can't tell us shit. #10: His wife bought girl scout cookies from my center child, and whenever they see us out at a restaurant, she always remarks how beautiful and well-behaved our kids are. Their daughter is long-time dating the dude down the other road who had the loud ass truck that was waking up my baby all the time, and comes from the prominent country family on our road. I tried to wave them down to tell them to stop gunning it in front of my house one time, but the daughter of the state troop wouldn't stop, so I went to his house and told him he was waking up my baby and I knew how cool it was to have a loud ass fast ass ride, but please don't cut whole shots in front of my house. And he never has ever since. #11 (BONUS!): The retired state trooper sometimes for some reason drives this giant truck that's like a tractor and trailer truck, but with a tiny little pick-up truck bed. Seriously, it's as large as a tractor and trailer but with a regular 6-foot pick-up bed, and looks ridiculous. Like not even a Southern rapper would drive something like that. I bet that dude's dick is so small.

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