Fuck Yeah! It's Monday!

Listen to this cool performance of Amanda Palmer singing "Ukulele Anthem" at the Sydney Opera House, and then go kick some fuckin' ass at something creative today.

The crazy weather in this video got me thinking about the evening of May 7th, 2018, when I went out to  my tent in the woods behind Bolton Park here in Winston-Salem, where I lived for 9 1/2 months or so, with a six week hiatus after I went to jail for buying donuts as Aldi's on Peter's Creek last fall.  Long story... ask me sometime in person.  Or you could ask officer Dime.  And look at his bodycam footage.  Oh wait, the public and press are not allowed to see bodycam footage here.

Anyhow, I soon had a bunch of Southern good ol 'boys stomping around outside my tent, a couple mentioned having baseball bats, and talking about beating the fuck out of me to "teach me a lesson."  Months of various forms of intimidation didn't work to get me to go stay in the homeless shelter with all the lazy-ass drunk and crackhead motherfuckers who are getting Disability checks, paid for by YOUR tax dollars, every month.  I came to Winston-Salem to turn my art into a business.  It's as simple as that.

But the good ol' boys ran me through the police database, and found that I tested as having one of the highest I.Q.'s in the country when I joined the Marines in late 1984.  I was dropped from the delayed entry program, and told that the Commandant of the Marine Corps himself, personally, made that decision.  What I wasn't told was how high I scored on the I.Q. test.  With that on my record, I apparently came to the attention of all kinds of people at various government and law enforcement agencies.  Without realizing it, I became an "asset," for several of them.  I had a roommate in 1995, Chris Moeller's cousin, who claimed to be a CIA agent.  Chris called him "Operation Rick, the paramilitary Mod", because all he talked about was being a spy, but he wore Creepers and rode a scooter.  Hence the Mod part.  Things got crazier later on, especially after 9/11.  I can't go into all the details of what actually happened to me in all those years I was homeless, a taxi driver, and a homeless taxi driver.  The reason is because of who was fucking with me.  But it was just ridiculous.  And your taxi dollars paid for it... lots of your tax dollars.

Now, I just want to make a living as an artist and writer, but the bullshit has ramped up again.  And that led to the good 'ol boys stomping around outside my tent on the night of May 7th, as a storm approached.  I just laid there, waiting for them to do something, and throwing out the occasional sarcastic comment like, "Shit, if I knew all you guys were coming, I would have got snacks."

The American South was built on slavery, we all know that.  And slavery, at its core, is intimidation and terrorism.  Humans are terrorized on a personal level to the point where they believe they HAVE to remain slaves.  And that long honored tradition of intimidation continues to this day in places, and at times.

But those good ol' boys, stomping around outside my tent on the night of May 7th, didn't know what to do with someone who simply wouldn't cower and be intimidated.  And someone who happened to be homeless at the time, and yet have a blog with 30,000 page views in a year.  A blog that got more web traffic than most official sites in this area.  Hey, it ain't my fault if your social media game sucks.  Learn.  Do the work.  You can't buy popularity anymore, you have to get on the phone or computer and actually put out GOOD CONTENT.  You know, like this post about you dumbass motherfuckers threatening to beat the fuck out of a homeless guy, who you  KNEW was unarmed, in  a tent, ALONE, in the woods.  I actually heard one guy say, "If we beat the fuck out of him, he'll just blog about it when he gets out of the hospital."  Yep.  Welcome to the 21st Century.  Cowards intimidating other people by brute force doesn't play well in a world where nearly everyone has a video camera.  But, I wasn't going to blog about that night at all.  I was going to just keep plugging away at my artwork and blogging and keep building the start of a little business.

But then I got hit with your $632 fine and fees for my donut BUYING arrest, and another 50 hours of community service, AND a 30 day jail sentence, suspended for one year.  Did I mention that the guards threw a federal prison inmate in my cell the last of my three nights in county jail here?  Remind me, I'll tell you the story sometime.  He and I started talking art, and got along well.  I'm pretty sure that's not how things were supposed to play out.

But then, my checking account wasn't supposed to get closed, which keeps me from starting an online store at the moment.  And my new bank card, was supposed to ACTUALLY SHOW UP in the mail a week ago.  Apparently it's "lost." And the studio owner with much of my artwork on her walls is supposed sell my stuff when people want to buy it, but she's been told not to give me a dime that I earn, because drawing pictures isn't a "legitimate" way to make money to pay my FUCKING RIDICULOUS FINE, which has somehow jumped to $732.

I make about $500 a month from my art right now.  That's not a lot.  But I came to Winston-Salem in June 2017, with $15, a little backpack with some clothes, and my art supplies.  I didn't know ANYONE in the art scene here.  From that humble beginning, I now make a small, but steady income, built entirely on drawing pictures that average people REALLY FUCKING LIKE to hang on their walls.  I know a lot of people in this city now.  And yet, the good 'ol boys keep trying to stamp me out like a termite.  Or a nigger, back in the day when they could still use that word openly.  Blacks aren't the only minority that gets fucked with a lot here.  Homeless people are a minority as well, as are others.

Times have changed.  And you guys haven't.  

You want a war mother fuckers?  OK you got one.  But this isn't a war with tanks and bombs and guns and baseballs bats.  OK, IT IS a war with guns baseball bats, on your side, at least on the night of May 7th it was.  You know, the night when you guys couldn't figure me out, why I wasn't intimidated, and when I said the words, "Hoka Hey," from inside my tent.  One of the guys asked what that meant.  I replied, "Google it."  Much to my surprise, one of them did.  I honestly didn't think they were stupid enough to bring their phones with them to beat the fuck out of a homeless guy in the woods.  When he Googled "Hoka Hey," his phone pinpointed his location, which is now on record. Not smart.  And then, he saw where those words came from.  If those of you reading this want to know, Google it.

Apparently, you good ol' boys want a war with a artist, a "worthless piece of shit," asswipe, artist who was homeless for years.  OK.  You got it.

 But this is a war of ideas.  A war for the hearts and minds of the people of this area.  Guns don't mean shit in a war of ideas.  You can only terrorize a coward, and I'm not one.  Bring it on motherfuckers.  Let's play.

#useadonutgotojail  #letsplay