ANTEBELLUM BLOG: WTF

Showing posts with label WTF. Show all posts

4/3/20

RICK CASTRO: DIARY-4/2/2020

So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 4/2/2020

I don’t feel at all like writing today… or was it yesterday? I can’t keep track anymore. Is this a sign of isolation, stress, loneliness, fear, anxiety, depression, COVID19 or writers block? All I know is I don’t feel like writing.

Everything is so grim… what can I contribute, what can I produce that’s effective for myself and others? How will we all get through this? I felt awful last night.. Didn't know if it was another bout with the plague, or my hyper allergic reaction to spraying Bee’s cabin to get rid of the Amityville Horror fly infestation. Well, I got rid of them, but also ruined my thyroid and liver for life. Not to mention my nervous system…. Let’s face it, i’m a wreck.

To calm my nerves I drove to Devils Punchbowl… Did you know there was such a place? Yes! not too, too far from my high desert retreat. When I got there the park was closed due to the plague. I figured as much, but I do want to express how remote this place is…

for it to be closed underlines the severity of the plague. I parked me dad’s hand-me-down 1990, Ford Explore on the side of the road, and munched on some Burritos I made. Chicken, lentil, zucchini, and cheese. They came out really good.. I’ve become the rustic cook. As I’m having me lunch in the middle of nowhere, I see these two urbanites with all their hiking gear, walking completely off trail in search of salvation. If there really is a devil at this punchbowl, he’ll show them.

Ok, I went to the local post office for the first time, not just during this stay, but in my entire life. I didn’t even know there was a postoffice in the area… I find the everyday images of what people are dealing with intense and disturbing. Everyone in homemade masks, some with prints of kittens to look cute, other good ol boy-types living their dream as Ninja kamikazes. Floor markers made from postal tape, handwritten with “ stay six feet apart. Pens with cheerful glittery bunnies, and flowers in a basket to use, with a handwritten sign, “these items are not sterile. Use at own risk.” The entire postal staff in masks and gloves. A flimsy plastic tarp,
(with holes) sealing the off from the public they serve, reminding everyone to, “have a nice day.” This is the new norm!

We're all so fucked. This is not my idea of how I plan to spend my golden years.

What I’m feebly trying to articulate; what will be our legacy? Who will be the hero’s of this plague? There hasn’t been, In my lifetime, an experience that every person in the world in dealing with at once… the same experience collectively. I think of the karma in that collective thought. Who will lead? Who will become the leader? Who will step up to the plate and say, “ I’M NOT GOING TO ACCEPT THIS. I WILL FIND A CURE, AND IT WILL BE FREE FOR EVERYONE. Not just the chosen few that is the lie and failure that is capitalism.

So this is how the world will end.

Violators of #COVID19 #lockdown grabbed with 'social pliers' in #Nepal pic.twitter.com/IR24lTMHZx
— RT (@RT_com) April 3, 2020

Please donate to Rick Castro: It's the right thing to do- here-

2/29/20

TOMORROW DOESN'T BELONG TO ME

Who remembers the scene in the classic film Cabaret, (1972)

where Sally Bowles, (Liza Minelli) Christopher Isherwood, (Michael York) and Maxmillian Von Heune, (Helmet Griem) stop to have lunch at a rural beer garden in Weimar Germany?

Oblivious to the world, they talk about drinks, parties and travel, while a young peach-cheeked lad begins to sing in a cherubic voice- Tommorrow Belongs To Me. As the song progresses a couple farmers join in, then waitress and staff, then the entire military troop-Nazis. Sally Bowles and company are forced to leave making the statement,

"do you still think you can control them?

The other day I attended a farmers market in the quaint town of Wrightwood in the San Bernadino mountains. I've been going to Wrightwood since I was a kid. My parents have a little cabin not too far from there. In a small community auditorium were a smatter of folding tables with fresh produce, farm raised eggs, homemade baked goods, tamales and the most amazing smoked salmon I've ever tasted. Everybody knows each other.

The vendors are Mexican, Japanese, caucasian and black. In the corner was a MAGA booth run by a surly looking man & woman. They looked like caricatures of what one might image to be "poor racist trash." They noticed me immediately and grimaced in my direction.

I glared right back boring holes thru their thin, receding hairline skulls.

Every now and again someone would walk up and talk to them.

I wondered why they were allowed to have this booth with ethnic minorities on either side?

I'm assuming the Wrightwood community approved.

Someone decided this is equal opportunity.

The other morning I was at an original diner circa 1948 on route 66 Victorville. As I ate my pancakes a table full of MAGA men were spewing hatred against "illegals," and convinced California will go red in November. "wait and see, " they taunted. As the Mexican delivery man walked by they feyed excuses for their minority rant. Not an apology, but "he's one of the good ones," type mentality.

This slow overtake of MAGA mentality is now present. Not only in red states, but here in California. In parts of rural areas of my  childhood memories, and many parts of sprawling   LA County.

 Let me be clear, MAGA is not about equality. At its core is a racist, xenophobic, supremacist way of thought, with a wish of going back to something that never existed. The current powers in the white house will never do anything for these MAGA people. Ever! They are too poor. Kanye and Steven Miller  have the goods $$$.  Small town USA MAGA's will never be allowed a seat at the table. They will be the brown shirts.

Tomorrow doesn't belong to me.