Sooooo... we were somewhere in the middle of southern Illinois cornfields around Staunton when the drugs began to take hold.... hold it... that is another story. Sadly their were no drugs and even more sadly I was not with my attorney, Oscar Zeta Acosta (The Brown Buffalo) but was instead with both Lily and Lola. Things were hazy as to why we were together screaming through back roads off of the highway in the stunted browned out corn.
I recalled that we were in a drought... the Obamadrough caused by that President. Evidently he has appealed to his Muslim God and he is no longer going to allow it to rain on the red States in the heartland until we agree to re-elect him. It is real wrath of God stuff and he is justifying it by saying that we cannot elect a Godless Mormon as our President but it still seems a little harsh and like bad mojo to me. And it is hell on the corn.
We pulled out of St. Louis at 5:00 A.M. I had to leave that early from St. Louis because the three of us were on a high speed jouny to northern Michigan. Our attendance was expected at an event called "Arcadia Days" in Arcadia Michigan. Many, MANY Lutheran were converging on the small town so that they could see one another, walk through art and craft booths during the day and then go to the town park in the evening where a snow fence gets strung around the small town park and they herd the Lutherans into a large pen, sometimes with a DJ playing bad music and sometime with a band that can play "Sweet Home Alabama"... all summer long. Certainly it was going to be an epic event, perhaps world changing and we needed to get into town early to set up our base of operations and take in the "the scene" because "the scene" was going to be life changing. All of the big Lutherans would be there. Meyers, Schultzes, Kaltenbachs... if youhave an archaic Lutheran name your people would be represented.
Lutherans are a strange breed. A version of bastardized Catholicism without the history or the mystery. Just a lot of hard German Grace. Still, Lily and Lola were looking forward to it and I am if nothing a gracious and gentle man when it comes to their needs. We crossed the river past the Arch (still the only National memorial dedicated to the people who left) into a blinding son. there was not question of licking up hitchhikers... to dangerous...East St. louis... bad craziness. We had not yet started to drink but for some reason I failed to stay on Highway 70 and was ambling up highway 55 towards Chicago. Awful place Chicago and constricted arteries. no place for a man to drive at hi speeds in a Highlander and not do major damage to himself or others.
So I noticed around Staunton. Very close to Benld and the Mother Jones Memorial. I considered turning around but that seemed a poor choice so I thought I could "cut through". That left me on unmarked dirt roads that Google Maps could not identify spinning through the fields as dirt and gravel flew up on the massive Highlander as the tires power slid around turns and Lola and Lily squealed with fear and whined as they shedded unmercifully because they of course... dogs... mutts really and if somehow I could have popped a door open and "lost" one of them I would have been none the poorer. I was trying to map it on my iPhone but more that anything else was just trying to direct the vehicle generally west... like an iceberg. Several thousand pounds of steel careening through drought infested corn. Southern Illinois at this point was brown and getting browner. It was starting to resemble the South Sudan for anyone paying attention. As the gravel flew I was looking through the dust for hoards of Lost Boys afraid at any time I might here the clattering of their dry bones off the cars not insubstantial grill. It had to be frightening for anyone watching and the carrion were already circling over head, sensing something was amiss or perhaps if nothing else sensing some congenital mental weakness in the hapless passengers in the car...we looked like a late lunch. What had happened to us. I shot my handgun at the birds, scattering them and giving me time to get out. We sped south back to highway 70 and continued towards Indy.
The dogs were getting a little antsy by the time we hit Indy on our way to Carmel to go to Shapiros Deli. There is one downtown that is a classic but they moved to the burbs and that is right at the beginning of Highway 31 which would then take us ALL THE WAY NORTH! Shapiros is a classic. Huge portions and great corned beef. I left the girls in the car and went in for a corned beef sandwich some chips and tea. EXCELLENT. There was enough to fill me up and give some treats for good behavior to the beasts and settle them down a little. Sometimes you have to offer up something to the Gods. Then we closed our eyes and pointed the Highlander north and prayed that nothing got in our way. We immediately were halted by the stoplights of Kokomo which were keeping us from getting up any kind of speed but as soon as we got through the town we could see the drought had hit here as well.
The drought had of course been caused by barrack, Hussein Obama, likely with the help of his thug, friend Rahm Emmanuel. Neither of them had a heart, much less a soul. Obama had prayed to his Muslim God and now the red states were literally awash in dust and dead corn and soy beans. In St. Louis it had been over 100 for so many days that they had stopped counting the dead and instead were stacking them like cordwood up and down Manchester Road as fireman wrenched open dry hydrants. There was speculation that Obama would not lift the drought until Ohio officially handed it's electoral votes to him. It could be a long fall as Romney with his plural wives seemed powerless to stop the drought and save his people. We would for a long tim remember Obamadrought 2012.
The trip was made more ominous by the caterwauling of John Darnielle and his band "The Mountain Goats". He had recently released a troubling new single "Cry For Judas" which was maddening with it's sadness.
"Long black night
Morning frost.
I'm still here
but all is lost"
Good shit. It caused me to load up on the Goats as a continuous soundtrack ignoring Sirius Radio and even NPR so as to immerse myself in the Goats. Darnielle has a troubled, questioning relationship with God that makes him fascinating, stimulating and totally fucked up.
We get out of Kokomo and spin north on 31 until I hit South Bend. Whenever I go by South Bend, I must make a pilgrimage to the campus to see the ungodly image of "Touchdown Jesus". Who, as a Christian thinks it is a good idea to mock Christ in this way? Who claims his image for college football? Anyway... I always go. It reminds me of everything that gets twisted about religion and God. The dogs do not like it either. If I had time I would let them out for the privilege of peeing within sight of it. But the north was calling again...relentlessly yanking us north.
We hit Michigan in a cold rain and hit the interstate at Niles. Stopping only for gas and peanut butter cheese crackers our pace had moved to a feverish one. The next stop up 31 was Holland Michigan, home of my son's, fiance's family. it was tempting to stop because they always are hospitable but I had to make Arcadia by nightfal for the onslaught of Arcadia Daze. There was only time for one more stop and the girls and I needed food. When the beasts are not placated with food they shiver and shed huge rugs of hair. As it swirls around the car I was collecting a sickening pelt of dog hair and I knew they needed food quickly or it ould be too late and they would appear to be large Mexican hairless mutants and I would no longer be able to breathe.
Grabbing my handy iPhone I looked up best tacos in Holland, followed by best tacos in Grand Haven. There I discovered Arturos and with a quick call I was able to order three tacos to be picked up. Speeding north and making a harrowing high speed Michigan u-turn I was in front of Arturos and after a brief negotiation with the clerk left quickly with the tacos as well as their red and green sauce and went accross the draw bridge with Muskoegon, Luddington, Manistee and finally Arcadia in my grasp. the tacos were devestatingly good although i am always confused when confronted with quality street tacos without the offer of carnitas or any other quality pork. Still, these were deliscous and tossing scraps to the beasts seemed to slow their distress.
As I closed in on the town and went down into Arcadia Valley I could not contemplate a night, drinking with drunken, unemployed locals out cans. Drinking in the small city park. Surrounded by a temporary snow fence. Plastic bracelet indicating I am of age. Until oblivion. 555 miles from the Arch to the Valley. A long day, a good day.
Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel
Sometimes you try to free 'til the slots are a blur of spinning
Wheels
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
Long black night
Morning frost
I'm still here
But all is lost
Speed up to the precipice and then slam on the brakes
Some people crash two or three times and then learn from their mistakes
We are the ones who don't slow down at all
And there's nobody there to catch us when we fall
Long black night
Morning frost
I'm still here
But all is lost
Feel the storm every night
Hope it passes by
Hallucinate a shady grove where Judas went to die
Unfurl the black velvet altar cloth
Draw a white chalk battlement
Mistreat your Altar Boys long enough and this is what you get
Sad and angry... can't learn how to behave
Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave
Long black night
Morning frost
I'm still here
But all is lost
OK...sooo... this is the last time I will bloviate on the Akin thing. I promise. I have listened to all the talking heads on FOX, MSNBC, local Fox and CNN. I have read the Post (St. Louis Post Dispatch), The Wall Street Journal and the New York Times. The local folks on 97.1 FOX Radio have really stayed loyal to Congressman Akin and they are to be complimented for their constancy. I have talked to people liberal and conservative (I have friends who are both... creepy). A few final observations:
