Asses in Classes (a 30:30 report)
Well, I try never to follow up on my half-hour-plus reports left dangling – even when I promise I will – because where’s the fun in that and what about each of you lucky readers of these (the rumor is) incredibly hip and engaging non-stop damn near breathless tales missing out on the chance to fill in the blanks, yes you go girl, you go fella, fire up a couple of those lazy brain cells and decide for yourself just exactly where that story was headed when time (the stream Thoreau went a-fishing in) busted it over the 30:30 finish line, time sidled over to one of those free post-race tables and sucked on a free orange and maybe sizzled a coupla gulps of free donated spring water and looked around and chuckled – you could have heard it if you were real close – and whispered on the breeze these words – “The hell with telling them the rest of it. Finish it yourselves kids because this is actually a favor I’m offering you, the chance to honest to God do some honest to God thinking.”
Yeah, that’s the general modus operandi. It stops where it stops – tick tock tick – and my next and only thought is “Now what?” And yet, somehow here today, well, here we are again and maybe we never left, over in a shadow in one of the corners of this large living room — and apparently pre-house meeting festivities have washed themselves out (and talking about brain cells, the roomies have without doubt collectively deprived themselves ongoing of about 15,00 of their collective own what with the four or five incredibly and nearly criminally super-fat fatties which have generously been shared amongst them). Meaning those festivities have included what good old Nancy R and for sure her dickhead husband and no doubt ICE assholes would have labeled substance abuse when those of us who know better, which may also be said as us truly in the know, well, this was simply the kids sharing in a late Saturday afternoon good clean fun session, and with the laws changed all over the place including here in Venice, CA where now it is way less likely (unless, of course, you are a young black man in which any variation of any law can occur on any street corner in any town or city in any state here in the good old US of A) those ganja laws have changed and so the shades did not need to get pulled down and the tension of paranoia is nowhere to be found and –
Well, will you look at this: once again your scribe has fallen off the “Topic” into crazed meanderings in which he has described tales of drug abuse and probable racist behavior and how we used to have to pull all the shades down and light candles and keep a powerful look-out for “the man” – who could surely be among those ICE assholes and Ronnie Ray-gun and white cops all over the place, but this afternoon it’s the house meeting which is the thing and here we are on agenda item one, which if you recall is all about the current demands of the “administration” – there’s a fucking joke – demanding because they can demand and they like to demand and it feels good to demand and, yet, there is just a sneaky suspicion the most they’ll be able to demand about six months from now is which tier they want to be housed on, and the hell with that losers, your asses are heading for lock-down with the biggest baddest mofo’s at places like Sybil Brand and Lompoc and the DC City Jail…..
And okay to all that, but here today agenda item one is, you remember, the current demand that every kid in the country not already dead will show their ass up to their local school building, yeah K through 12, which let me take a break here for a minute and say there may be an ability to fudge some of these location requirements with the so-called charter schools and it goes without saying private schools, but for the sake of the house meeting Becky is leading the way with what do you thinks? and is anybody pissed? and don’t you Valencia have a kid sister in the fourth grade? and what about you Dickie, you’ve got three brothers right? and there’ll all still in school and plus Bendy and Mabel you guys are like totally hep to current events and, yes, you devoted readers have been waiting more than 24 hours for the conclusion of these cogent conversations in the weekly house meeting here at 17211 Paloma close by the canals which we have for your enhancement as to milieu added a picture up there at the top and this was among about seven hundred millions of pics available by simply going to the Google platform and typing in Venice canals being sure to specify those in Cali because in Italy even with all their virus woes and nightmare times and everything else (includes canals) they do not have to put up with the dumbest of all motherfuckers saying now do this, now do that, oh don’t worry it’s all make believe anyhow, which leaving Italy and back here to the states hopefully a hex on the primary punk and bully in charge (you know who but if all this verbiage has left you confused here’s a hint – it rhymes with chump) –
Anyway, things may get a tad more real when his fat ass is being introduced to a coupla tattooed fellows – Well, come on Milky, get it together and do what you do when you do these “reports” which take a smidge over 30 minutes to write and actually I wouldn’t call it writing so much as channeling, which sometimes it feels like a mystical voodoo thing, but anyhow – Finally —
They have gone around the circle where they are sitting in usual spots on old chairs and one naugahyde recliner and the couch they scored left for free on the walkway and they had to get a friend of Mabel’s, this very strong lesbian, with a truck, and they have gone around counter-clockwise and had a not-secret vote since even though there is some degree of impairment based on the pre-meeting activities previously noted, everyone can still see each other and the vote is 5-0 that the president is a bully and an asshole and hopefully does have that fun posterior experience just hypothesized and his appointee of all things school stupid and let-em-eat-cake shit Betsy DV is (group hope here) sitting with some of the Manson chicks in Sybil B by Valentine’s day and maybe she receives a fun valentine from some of the gals in a place where orange is the new nightmare…..
And beyond the vote there have been numerous exclamations of real true honest unending hatred for bullying, which that word has come up repeatedly not only in the scribe’s transcription but in the meeting itself, more times than my fingers could put up with writing without probably some wicked carpel tunnel thing and a second vote – requested by Bendy because he honest to God cares about little kids and stupid risks just so you- know-who don’t go even lower in the poles and also because he is hoping that people will begin to get tired and perhaps even nod out before the group reaches the sixth item on the agenda – you remember – about who let the dogs out which is roommate lingo for who’s the imbecile who threw the dishes and pans out back last week which we already indicated was him and also if you remember noted that he’d confessed without realizing it because in his state of highness last Tuesday night – and see, right here, this is why Nancy R said to just say “No” when it comes to being offered gateway drugs – anyway, Bendy was so high he felt he was poetically describing inanimate items literally floating through the soft warm early morning no one’s up but me I love dawn breeze, but he has forgotten that and so is trying to stall a bit and maybe the meeting peters out because this is,
And you haven’t heard this yet and your scribe will own his own and say, yes, I probably should have mentioned this previously, the house meeting is just one of three weekly activities beginning late Saturday afternoons that the kids here on Paloma participate in, the next being a group consciousness about who is doing what when it comes to making and cooking and preparing and serving and even eating together dinner – which some people might consider an Antifa activity, all that social collectivity, but fuck that, haven’t we already laid out the case that those people belong to the crowd designated truly stupid, so activity number two is the kids do the communal dinner thing which does include cleaning up and washing and drying and refraining from flying out the back door dishes and, then (number three), they all get back together in this very living room and check in on what each of them is planning to do, and with all that one-for-all collective kind of communist stuff I was just mentioning as regards dinner prep, eat, and clean, it’s a weird fact that almost every single Saturday night out of an entire year these five go their separate do-your-own-thing ways on Saturday nights.
And we are done but for this final fact, which refutes what was just said – Tonight, it will be revealed in the post dinner and clean-up get together that both Mabel and Becky are going to a street-side demonstration about the racist stupid mean selfish and incredibly fucking dumb order that every kid must go back to school two months from now, and they are going to participate in a demonstration on the corner of Pacific and Paloma, which is real close to the Boardwalk, and they already made signs and everything, and, Mabel is going to say, in the roommate meeting, it’s what every good American ought to be doing tonight.
And I already know this — All the roommates will agree with that.