America

Happy Veterans Day to you all who served.

I don't have much to write about but I'm trying to put that whole misunderstanding about me and my landlord behind me so I'm going to post something that has irked me lately.

My crew are all good men. One is too young immature to put ego aside but no one is perfect. They are not Mexican because that would be like saying they are working with a green card and can't speak English and send money to Monterrey. None of that is true. One of them speaks less Spanish than I do but they often refer to themselves as Mexican and me as an "Anglo" or Gringo...which technically we all are. Maybe this is a cultural pride thing but they are Americans in my book. Of course they are more Mexican than I am but it's not a contest. Maybe they are 3rd generation American while I am 6th. does this matter?

One of them was telling a story of how his daughter in 1st grade was crying because a kid in her class asked, "Why do we have to go to school with a dirty Mexican?" and the kindergarten teacher allegedly answered, "I don't know."

And another said he fought his father in law at the hospital when his child was born with a purple hue because the father in law of the Anglo mother said, "Put the baby back in, he's still Mexican."

Imagine your father fighting your grandfather in the hospital on the day you are born. Obviously these are hurtful things to say but we are about 70 miles from the political boundary of Mexico and only a total idiot would think this area was always American. Culturally, it has about a 50/50 split between rodeos and mariachi bands. Quincineras and "mutton busting" are equally accepted coming of age honors. Most radio stations here are Spanish. The others play horrible anglo country songs that drive me insane with their lack of sophistication and bastardized ethics of beer and tight jeans. Awful!

I don't understand this prejudice but I do see where some of the animosity toward old Oggy comes from. I'm assumed to be prejudice. Slowly my personality has revealed that I am far from prejudiced against anything but ethical and geometric characteristics.
They ask, "Don't you think about pussy? When was the last time you got laid?"
And I say, "You know how that power strut piece we attach to the Number 1 oil tank has those wide holes...what if we...

and our arguments proceed in this manner.

"Oggy, the world isn't perfect."
"But don't you see we have the chance to make this part of the world perfect."
"You're taking too long."
"Because no one has figured out the order of operations. In the long run we're wasting time doing it your way. We need to just think about this. Did you even read the instruction manual that came with those connectors?"
"Manual?
"Look. Start from the beginning..."
"Come on, I want to get drunk."
"Now if I cut off the end of the u-bolt at exactly 10 threads then that will allow me to..."

It's pretty amusing since I am not in charge of anything or anybody.
That's all for now.

Formative Albums

Formative Albums I’ll start at the beginning: Albums didn’t exist in the modern sense until the early 1960s. Before that a Single would be released and then another and another. Then a Compilation Album. In 1963 The Beatles came along and they had the idea to release all of their songs at once…and even write specifically for a collection of songs. Yellow Submarine, Let it Be, The White Album and my favorite….

Abbey Road. A track by track essay would take forever so I’ll leave that for my afterlife career in writer’s purgatory. For now, the highlight is the first track, “Come Together”. The octave sliding bass line played by Sir Paul McCartney is priceless and locks you into the music. The Lennon-sung lyrics are proto-rap and risqué for the time. “I know you, you know me, one thing I can tell you is you got to be free.” This was the basic advice the Fab Four had at the end of the 1960s. Somehow the Oceanic gap between London and New York had preserved the group’s originality and soul. They were not folk and they were not rock and they weren’t the dominant rockabilly and blues that had inspired them to pick up instruments in the first place. They were inspired and impossible to imitate (even they couldn’t imitate themselves) and their music totally transcended the time. I was introduced to the Beatles first by my father’s Greatest Hits record and later by the ultimate enthusiast Robert G. in Yosemite. Robert schooled me in The Beatles and also in another album that should make this list but doesn’t because I don’t want two albums by the same artist.

Dry Season

I want to demonstrate the oblivious nature of the nation without revealing my own oblivious nature so it's difficult. Basically, it amounts to this: a dry riverbed in Texas must mean that everywhere is dry. And a clear sky over my head means that there is no storm anywhere. And since birds and bees don't elect presidents then I pay no attention to anything of that nature. If I want to embrace the true oil field mentality then it would be to ignore anything of any importance that happens outside of my own crew digging trenches through rocky Kaliche in the dusty mesquite while the gas flares bellow flames as metal dragons in an uncaged domain. Isn't that something everyone can relate to? And if your world involves something like lack of power or lack of a house then it isn't my concern. But that's not really embracing the mentality because it recognizes your existence. Actually, most of my compadres have no comment on the east coast storm of the century because it did not involve them. One person said, "What storm?" That's the kind of oblivion that is cultivated out here and I've fallen prey to it without time to digest awful social media and flagrant gossip on the interweb.

Fort Inge

Let's not forget that Oggy is trying to learn about and understand his world. So this quest to Historic Fort Inge was a deviation from his sexual perversions and environmental rape. Climbing to the top of this bump of coarse red rock was no small task since there is no trail (Texans don't aspire to climb nameless hills) and the rattlesnakes guard every step and Oggy's feet are worn from 72 hours of abuse in the oil field.

Identify This Spider

Wolf Spider Found in Texas...About 2 inches long

I can laugh about it now but this spider came from the dense webs behind the crumbling microwave over stand. It looks completely deadly to me but I was able to set it free in the wilderness. It must be native to the desert in this part of Texas and that marking on his back will make it easy to ID.

In fact, it only took 30 seconds for me to figure out that it is a Wolf Spider

It's poisonous, like mainstream media, but not fatal. Considering my relationship with the Wolf, this is yet another strange coincidence that makes me believe I was fated to live at this house and have raunchy gay sex with an 82 year old queer. Again, the Lord Jesus Christ works in mysterious ways and this must be His hand guiding mine under the withered scrotum of my landlord as I fellate his throbbing member.