Posts Tagged ‘Dumb


Literacy, huh?

(I’ve gotten away from Legal Disclaimers — see about author if you are insulted by anything I’ve written.)


I don’t have too many nice things to say about Las Vegas, but the rent is cheap.

C-Jane and I participated in World Book Night. What is that? Well, thirty (30) fabulous and fantastic authors like Stephen King, Alice Sebold, and Orson Scott Card all donated thousands of books without expectation of payment to promote literacy in the US. As an author myself, I value literacy.

The deal is this, C-Jane and I volunteered to give away 20 free books from an author of our choice. I chose Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card since it was one of the books I read in college that inspired me to become a writer. I was pretty jazzed to give twenty copies of this awesome book to new readers.

So, C-Jane and I went to our local supermarket, and spoke to the manager, and they agreed with our cause. Literacy is good, M’kay? We could stand out in front of the store and promote literacy without going to jail for unlawful assembly, but we were not allowed to fist fight with the patrons of our neighborhood grocer.

I said, “Excuse me, but do you like to read?” And the giant fat guy with the tattoo on his 25-inch circumference neck with his equally huge girlfriend with rhinestone piercings through each of her cheeks looks at me and says, “I f**kin hate reading!”

“Have a nice day.”

The tall oriental guy with the UNLV hat says, “Why are you doing this? No one reads unless they are in jail.”

It was 101* Fahrenheit this afternoon, we gave it a solid hour, more like ninety minutes. “Excuse me ma’am, I’m giving away a free––” And she interrupts me, “I’m not voting for Obama, he is a liar! I hate him and all Democrats, they should all choke on their own vomit and die!!” And I say, “I just want to give you a book.” She continues, “I hate all of them, they all need to go to hell, they can all go burn, that god-damn Mitt Romney too, F-him and the Mormon Church he rode in on!” After a ten minute tirade, she then went to harass C-Jane. I wasn’t worried, C-Jane knows karate and she just learned the move called ‘Face-Smash.’ Thank you Sensei James for teaching her that one, and not a day too soon.

C-Jane also got the lady who said, “I only read the Bible.” Don’t get me wrong, I think Jesus rocks, but the gospels are not nearly as much fun as Ender’s Game. And then there was the meth-freak who laughed when I offered a free book. He said, “Dude, you got ten dollars I could have?”

Ninety minutes, we took the abuse of our ultra-ignorant neighbors. We did give away six books each, but it was horribly demoralizing. Las Vegas has got to be the dumbest city in America. I’ll get rid of my other fourteen books this Friday. I have a book signing at the renaissance festival in Boulder City. I’ll offer free books to people while dressed as a jester, waiting for the last five literate people of Las Vegas to find me. Hopefully the people of Boulder City don’t suck as retarded as the people in our neighborhood.


Black and White (The bus ride)

Aid for AIDS of Nevada throws one hell of a party every year and they call it the Black and White party. Restaurants from all over the city provide tastings from their menus. There are several other businesses who are involved, a huge raffle with many swank prizes, and there is free booze. If you are interested in whom all the vendors were, I suggest going to this site here.

My writing is purely experiential and experimental. Although my work is not journalism, I am a writer and this is my penchant. Although these events have occurred, my stories are not ‘the truth.’ In a symbolic way these stories are factual, but not absolutely. I am a creative fiction writer, it is my job and this is my free scrap-board.

So, the story begins on Saturday evening. C-Jane and I were waiting at the bus stop, dressed sharply and ready to go. The cuts and folds of the dress hold C-Jane in all the right ways. She wears a tailor-made party dress, form-fitting white and cut above her knee, with a hundred printed black-profiles of Queen’s ex-singer Freddie Mercury marching every couple inches across her body. Mercury died of AIDS in the 90’s. It sounds grim, but in truth her dress fits the occasion perfectly, this is a celebration of life when not too long ago the only way out for someone with HIV was an ugly and lonely death.

I stand next to her, dressed in black except for my Nike’s, which are white and black. It is 108*F, so both my shorts and T-Shirt are made of light material, both for breathing well and style. Both items accent my features, creating a physically powerful aura. And standing together waiting for a bus-ride, we catch the eye of every passer-by.

Yes, you heard me correctly, the bus. We took public transportation to a big and very fancy party. We intended to drink, not a little but a lot, and I’m not driving. C-Jane can’t drive drunk even if she thinks she can, but no – just no. Riding the bus would be an adventure, — oh, and what an adventure.

In Europe, Public Transportation is the way to go. It might be a tad more expensive than Stateside, but it is convenient, swift and punctual. I wouldn’t use those words to describe our bus ride, but ‘interesting and sad’ might be words I’d use. It certainly had more personality than any bus in Geneva or Amsterdam.

We may have well been covered in radioactive glowing dust. Everybody on the bus looked like they belonged and this is their routine, but now we’ve arrived and made their day different. Fish may have come flopping out of our pockets by how obviously we were out of our element. The woman beside me looks like a million dollars. I feel like a bodyguard at first. I, looking like 200-pounds of pure muscle, and asking, “How much is the fare?”

 But everything is cool. The driver replies to my question, “Two dollars.” We pay and go sit down; I offer C-Jane the inside by the window.

It isn’t just here. I really don’t fit in anywhere, so this ride, although at first a little strange, is no different than any other odd scenario that has formed my life. Up by the ceiling of the bus is an advertisement calling for human lab rats for strange and undisclosed sleep experiments. I wonder what volunteering for that could be like. Why do scientists only inform people who ride the bus that they need experimental human rats? Is the bus rider in Las Vegas so destitute that this is an option out?

Half-way to our stop, a younger man gets on with his girlfriend. They aren’t dressed for a night of partying, at least not like us. He, who we shall call ‘Shouter,’ shouts, “Anyone got a dollar!”

“I need a dollar!” he yells again. The bus sits, its driver’s foot is on the brake and the doors wait open. Shouter’s girlfriend wags her shoulders, her knees are pressed together. In her cubby face, dumb and unaware eyes look out. Shouter barks again, “Anyone have a dollar!”

BigJ, this is not your territory, just look out the window. It isn’t personal; this is his hustle, just leave it well enough alone. Shouter doesn’t look any brighter than his lady. A life of items taking by force or constant hand-outs is all this guy knows. I see his sense of entitlement in his eyes. It is a great unknown and indefinable quantity. Finally, someone concedes, and give the punk a dollar. Mr. Shouter and his Lady get a discounted ride by being obnoxious. Here is the top of the food chain.

As soon as we get to the Las Vegas Strip, we only have a couple miles to walk to the Cosmopolitan Resort. Chapter 2 will be the next stage of the adventure. Please savor and relish all parts, I will post daily until the story is finished.




(DISCLAIMER – see the second paragraph. I ain’t got time to spell it all out for you, I got deadlines to reach!)


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