Lack of Privacy

I learned how to repair shoes in Nicaragua so I bought some more time for my worn out running sneakers. The trick is to do it all on the side of a busy street under a shade tree. Americans throw too much away, waste frivolously and irresponsibly. The waste is out of control.

Can you pick which Jerk Hook is Guatemalan and which one is Nicaraguan? The difference is 80 years of U.S. Marines occupying your country and keeping it a defacto slave plantation to produce cheap fruit.

The heat loosened the glue of my bridge, so I stretched it open with overtight guitar strings, rammed a shim in the crack, forced some glue in there by standing the guitar on end and shoving a piece of plastic in and out...

...then totally panicked when my plan to clamp it failed because the C-clamp was half an inch too short. What followed was typical Oggy, shirtless in a public parking lot, tossing everything around to find some combination that will work before the glue dries. Ended up using my suspension strap rig, two wooden shims, and an old metal hacksaw. This guitar is my oldest possession but the thin tone does not warrant a $200 bill to pay a pro luthier to do this in a more pretty and private manner. All that matters is sufficient glue and strong clamps for an hour.

Trespassers Shall Be Shot

Another morning, another humiliating encounter with tattooed law enforcement. Fucking hell, every day I have to get frisked and searched and feed the same lines to the police. Unbelievable. And lately I am getting sloppy and staying in the Walmart parking lot after 8am. A decent hobo would leave at 6 or 6:30 and be gone before the day manager gets to work. But I got sloppy because I was drinking boxed wine in the parking lot last night, actually drinking enough boxed red wine to get drunk and ended up talking to a truck tow driver who was towing a long flatbed that had run into a wall and bent the rim so badly that it could not be replaced without cutting it off, and no welder could come out so he was going to drag the flatbed 15 miles, but the axle had come loose so the wheels of the front axle had to be chained up or else they would slide back and rub the back wheels and cause even more havoc. And then I took a full shower in the fucking Walmart parking lot, shampooing my hair, actually cutting my hair a little, drinking red wine, singing Western Swing songs. Insane and dangerous, disrespecful, waving to shoppers like we were close neighbors. I figure, fuck it, this country has gone to shit and if a guy can't wash his ass crack in a Walmart parking lot in full view of everyone in San Antonio Texas then what good is anything? I do not care. I am going to get hassled and charged with trespassing no matter what I do so why should I hide, why should I respect anything in this god forsaken hell? Respect is earned and whatafuckinburger deserves no respect. Police patrol like terminator drones, I piss in a jug and a guy in wheelchair with a colostomy bag has to empty the bag into a plot of grass. Is there any difference? Dogs shit and piss by the millions. So I gotta piss and shit in bags and shower next to a trash can in a parking lot. This is life. I don't like over priced bullshit hotels with false smiles and plastic wrapping on the toilet. I'm more Texan than a Texan. It's Oggy Hunting Season every single day and the police have me targeted for extermination. So I gotta sleep in a shade tree hammock and shit in a bag and get drunk and shower in a parking lot. So what? Covered wagon immigrants had it hard too. Texas was populated by folks from Tennessee who were invited by recent Mexican president to tame northern Mexico in exchange for land. It was technically Mexico and folks from Tenn. came here to be Mexican and kill Comanche. Well, they did the job so well that they decided they didn't want to be Mexican and they didn't want to be American either. They wanted a Texas Republic. And not long after they became a Lone Star republic they joined the Confederacy. And then they joined the Union because the money was better. SO DO NOT SHOVE YOUR FUCKING COP NOSE IN MY FACE AND CONDESCEND TO HUMILIATE ME LIKE I AM SOME KIND OF FUCKING SCUMBAG! This land was populated exactly by non-conformist vagabonds like myself and assholes later came and milked the fat tit of oil production to provide your paycheck and your nice tiger tattoos on your big bicep ego inflation. You want to define this land as Texan? Ok. It's just words, like pancakes only belong as breakfast food. Those are the words of assholes. It's dirt and grass and cow shit and you can call it whatever you want but when I have to wash my ass crack then I will do that wherever I please because that is what people do.

So I slept late, not hungover, but not feeling 100% right either, and the Walmart manager wakes me up banging on the van and I'm naked and get up. 
"You gotta get off the property!"
"Fine, fine. Whatever. I was a customer, you know." And I sort of laugh because I bought boxed wine with my last $3.22 in cash, drank it in the parking lot while I washed my hair wearing a peyote necklace, got drunk, and then danced around the parking lot with no shirt... but fuck him. I was still technically a customer.
"I don't care. This isn't a hotel. I got police coming and tow trucks."
"Wow. Y'all sound serious. I guess I'll move along." I figure he is bluffing, of course at that very second four police cruisers and tow trucks show up like they think they are Magnum P.I. with guns blazing to capture Al Capone. Oh, fucking Jesus, Joseph and Ezekiel. The same routine. Out of the van! Hands behind your back! Any drugs? Any weapons? What are you doing here? Why don't you have a Texas license? If you don't have an address then where do you work? You think this is funny? Are you drunk right now? Disdain and humiliation are thick on the cop's lips. Blah fucking blah. Again and again, hundreds and hundreds of police encounters.

Whatever.

Meet Me At Alamo Mission

Oddly prescient. I am lonesome and down in San Anton' and near the Alamo Mission...

Here is Part 1

The situation is complicated and probably beyond hope. Modern culture means chasing digital carrots to appease Fuckbook algorithm architects. ...

Preparing for Armageddon

suspension training

I know that my daily Law Enforcement assaults will require stamina and strength so I made some suspension straps to exercise and harden my muscles so they can take the abuse. It irks me that I could go to the most impoverished mud hut village in Nicaragua and be guaranteed a public gym for $1 a day visits where many people exercise and immediately I see that America is filled with Obese Whatafuckingburger addicts in spandex waddling back and forth to overpriced fitness centers that cost $24 minimum to take a shit. So I must adapt and make one more aspect of my life public so people can point and say, "look at the hippie dancing like a crazed monkey dangling from straps off his chreepy van. Let's call in a bomb threat so the police will give him shit and maybe execute him in his underwear in the parking lot. hahaha" I will make a whole tutorial video on how to live in a van and shit in a bucket and exercise with straps and shower nude in parks without being convicted of a sex crime. And I will post this video to the internet and maybe make a penny every time someone watches it and clicks on a 'like' button because I want to be as vain as possible.

Rocky Road

The road less traveled.