RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Wednesday, March 9

L.E.o.R. - Spring '11 - Day Three - 80 to 40

So I spent a good amount this yesterday morning reading about Mexican drug cartels, and how far they've splintered. This came about because they arrested a dude who was a higher-up in the Los Zeta cartel in southern Mexico. Actually, this came about because my google news reader is a retarded smorgasbord of topics. I have not like the google news reader since they revamped it, to make it dumber for dumb people. But I still have active topics on "Mexican drug cartels" and "outlaw bikers" and "CAA basketball" and "mental illness art" and really more shit than I should be let known. Sometimes I think of starting a separate blog that just aggregates all the dumb shit I change my google news reader around to. But at the same time, that's exactly the type of shit I hate about the internet - syphoning shit together and acting like, "Hey, look how awesome this shit I did is even though I didn't do none of it!"
Anyways, I was reading about the Mexican drug cartels, and it reminded me of how out of last fall's 80 candidates for the Learned Elders of Rojonekku, two of them have been removed from eligibility. One - biker artist David Mann - had been dead for years; I just didn't know it. The other - Nazario Moreno - was the leader of the La Familia drug cartel in Mexico. He had handwritten his own version of the Bible, and members were not allowed to do drugs themselves or sell locally, and the whole thing was allegedly a Robin Hood-like effort to take over the state of Michoacan from corrupt government officials. This of course makes the government police assassination of Moreno somewhat suspect, especially considering different parts of the government are in cahoots with different cartels, and the whole thing is more fucked that what The Wire tries to tell you Baltimore is like.
So Nazario Moreno is now dead, thus not eligible for the Learned Elders of Rojonekku. This put me in the mind of thinking about who I would most be sad if they died and I had not honored them in my weird ass little unabomber shack Hall of Fame. So that is the criteria in today's match-ups...
Day two (1-0, Davis): Afrika Bambaataa is a fucking hero and legend, space case hip hop gangsta from when the South Bronx was a third world battlefield of broken dreams. And somehow, he came out of that, crushed it without the use of social media, and blew the world the fuck up, hearing Planet Rock in his brain from the burned out urban rubble, and fucking the world with it. It is not outside of my mind that DJ Kool Herc, another important pioneer of a prostituted art that has meant a lot to me, just spent some serious time in the hospital. So without a doubt, I am thinking of Zulu Nation mortality. Advantage: Afrika Bambaataa, tied 1-1.
Day two (1-0, Onita): Man, not even sure how Aubrey Du Grey got into this mix. I mean, he's got some interesting philosophies and all, but when you stack a longhaired, bearded, British egghead scientist dude with outlandish ideas against a Japanese wrestler who blows himself up and once fought in Afghanistan to help children not get blown up by landmines, with him being the inventor of the Landmine Death Match, it's just not even close. Plus, Onita is probably more likely to actually die because of all this. Advantage: Atsushi Onita, 2-0, done.
Day two (1-0, Childish): This is a tough one, because Billy Childish is a very minor pop culture figure. If Bill Murray died, I would probably watch Caddyshack again. If Billy Childish died, I would just listen to "You Make Me Die Now" and then maybe "Something Went Wrong" and his death would make more sense. But then also while watching Caddyshack, I'd be reminded of how awesome Rodney Dangerfield was, and how it's even more sad that he's dead. Like his bug eyes sticking out his skull, that shit was funny. And now his flesh is all decayed. It's sad. Advantage: Bill Murray, tied 1-1.
Day two (1-0, Beausoleil): Oh man, this is not even close. When I think about Billy Gibbons potentially dying and no longer being part of this mortal coil, it makes me sad inside. He is quite simply an amazing man, who imagine still yells at people from across the street, laughs insanely, and then goes to some fucked up bowery row diner where you can still get venison sloppy joes and fight a dude with leather skin who looks like him and Philo Beddo might have crossed paths at some point over whether Freddy Fender from the jukebox is a Mexican or not. Advantage: Billy Gibbons, tied 1-1.
Day two (1-0, Nesmith): Bushwick Bill is cool and all, being a one-eyed midget rapper. But Carol Nesmith raises gamecocks, which is an illegal sport in America, and probably it's not even legal for him to raise them, even though his business is strictly international nowadays. His is a lost and dying trade, crushed from the American underbelly by the liberal desires of gentrification of the world, where no shady and grimy things go on, and there's chai lattes within a 5-minute drive in every direction. Advantage: Carol Nesmith, 2-0, over.
Day two (1-0, Bojorquez): A strange match-up under these criteria, as both have been The Best Thing Ever in my mind at certain points of my life, but also heavily mixed into the background clutter of my waxing and waning interests at most other times. So I kind of went with who I would rather sit down with and be sad if they were dead afterwards, which would be Cormac McCarthy. I haven't read nearly as much of him as I probably should, but that's because usually when I'm reading fiction, I feel like I'm wasting my time that could be better spent writing nonsense fiction. I'm just not a fast enough reader to get through it, and this is because I just can't read every word. If I am reading a book and realize I zoned out for half a page, I go back one page and start re-reading. I have to feel every word go through my brain. As it has been explained to me, reading is a much faster endeavor for others, who blow through books, get the overall gist of it, and then blow through another book. I respect that, but just can't help myself from having to roll every individual word into my mind. And then when I read a sentence I really love, I have to write it down in a notebook, to feel the flow of the words. I am a fucking nerd about that shit. Or insane. It's a fine line to be honest. Advantage: Cormac McCarthy, tied 1-1.
Day two (1-0, Echols): Damien Echols the railroaded metalhead kid who I guess I see something of myself in him, is just a young dude who has been in jail wrongly for his entire adult life. David Allan Coe is old and has a dreadlocked beard and plays a flying V confederate flag guitar. Not even close. Advantage: David Allan Coe, tied 1-1.
Day two (1-0, Manley): I thought that without a doubt this would go to Manley, what with me growing up a Redskins fan of the first order, and continue to suffer under the dictatorial regime of little-dicked Danny Snyder. But as I thought about it, Manley is a wacky figure, and still surrounding Redskins world, with his craziness, albeit not cracked out anymore (at least so goes the press releases). But Diego Maradona is a fucking international maniac. That dude was King of South America due to his soccer skills (which is the rest of the world's football), and made his fame off a probable hand ball. This athletic success was parlayed into cocaine, whores, dogs that bite his face, and who knows what else madness. Seriously, this whole Charlie Sheen thing has probably been done before by Diego Maradona three or four times over, it's just there wasn't a stupid around-the-clock media and social networking bullshit to run it up the hype machine into everybody's goddamned brains. Although saying that makes me wonder if I can follow Diego on twitter, because that would be cool. (By the way, twitter is fucking stupid. In case you were teetering on that, and then read that I do the twitters, please do not use that as a reason to start. I would encourage you to never look at it, ever. It is a useless wasteland of short blurts of people telling each other what they are selling/hyping/want you to look at/hoping you holler back because you are more famous than them. Avoid it.) Advantage: Diego Maradona, tied 1-1.
Day two (1-0, Santo): I sent Estevan Oriol's website a question a few weeks ago, trying to send them money to buy a print. No response. Not even an auto-response like, "Yo, I am commissioned to take pictures of half naked chicana chicks for a Complex magazine spread coming out in April. My webmaster will get at you soon." Nothing. I bet if Santito had an official website, he'd respond. I bet he does, with mind mails that he sends to the kids, to help them not do drugs in war-torn Mexico. Advantage: El Hijo Del Santo, 2-0, terminado.
Day two (1-0, Castro): Man, I still believe in the fundamental principles of communism, and feel what the Soviet Union was doing is as close to that as what America is now is in relation to an actual democracy. Both were perverted by a small, elite power base. And just like when the Soviet Union collapsed into a mafioso-happy military junta masquerading as a sort of democracy, America at some point will fall apart (potentially soon) and masquerade as some sort of mutant social state where the rich exploit the fuck out of the poor but give them shitty free educations and shitty free universal health care even though it only applies to the earth and specifically within one country. Thus, I will be for-realsy sad when Fidel Castro dies. The dude is the one guy who put that shit into motion, far better than most. Sure, Cuba has its own bullshit. But at one point it had the highest literacy rate and lowest infant mortality rate. He harbored Black Panther fugitives, and dumped a bunch of miscreant sociopath drug dealer types onto American soil back in the early '80s. And now he just likes to hang out and watch dolphins. Dude is an international treasure. Advantage: Fidel Castro, 2-0, goodbye G-man.

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