Update: 11/11/24 10:51:41 PM
| Field1 | Field5 |
|---|---|
| 1 |
Hi, my name's Bob… Consider me homeless… Took a lifetime to understand that's how people see me... always have, and always will. A homeless guy livin' under a bridge. There is a history. Sort of starts...here. |
| 3 |
No… read it. Not 'BASED' on a true story. 'IS' the true story. |
| 4 |
Ok, that's it for
startup photos Except maybe this Indian His importance will be explained later... But first, a quick look at the barest beginning of the much loved Sugar Loaf you may have heard of... and people still come 'roun' tryin' to find. |
| 5 |
Now... 'bout that
Indian It was a simple question, really. Naive, maybe 'So what kind of Indian was your grandmother?' The fact that my mother's grandmother was a full blooded somethin' or other seemed inocuous enough but I'd never really asked before. |
| 6 |
Immediately my family
was glaring at me like I'd said, 'God is dead and Jesus is a Jew'. They fell into a loud scuffling quarrel and nothing was ever said about it again. I finally showed some interest and poof... The topic vanished. |
| 7 |
I was flummoxed. But that was before I knew about the Tulsa race massacre, or Juneteenth, or how Indians would pose as being black because even the lowliest blacks were treated better than Injuns… Their very lives were on a constant precipice of deadly peril. Makes perfect sense my family wanted nothin' to do with that! Should prob'ly know better myself. |
| 8 |
But I have no choice.
I have to show how my family was in Orange County long before the invasive Europeans stole the aboriginal homeland. Talk about Original Warwikians, get real! |
| 9 |
Still, there is a
price to pay for admitting Native American heritage. Regular Americans, shocked by my admission, will throw me onto the pile with all the other things they hate. Tribals will only accuse me of cultural appropriation. |
| 10 |
Remember what happened
to Elizabeth Warren when she admitted the same? That was sumpin' to see. Of course Wikimedia now 'pedia-washes' the whole affair with meaningless neutralizing scouring drivel. |
| 11 |
I really should know
better, but I've never been shy about owning up to things other people would hide, such as my sketchy autochthonous DNA. |
| 12 |
Good news for me is
I'm not running for any office, not applying for any job, don't need a loan, don't want a grant, have no boss or family to please, no team or group to placate; I have zero aspirations and not the slightest will to any kind of power; I don't use substances, don't really care what anybody thinks about me; and well uh, besides with Trump's first election it became abundantly clear that American democracy is dead and gone anyway... absolutely nothing matters anymore. |
| 13 |
Sorry, but I get to
say whatever the fuck is true and nobody has the slightest recourse; homeless guys livin' under a bridge have few advantages ... being able to factually state the simple unadorned truth is prob'ly the only perk... so screw the trolls tryin' to elbow me out from under this bridge. Off we go! |
| 14 |
Oh yeah, well, right,
you can pretend that what I'm saying is not the truth, only 'a' truth or 'my' truth; doesn't matter, I just don't give a rat's ass... all my bases are covered. |
| 15 |
This film's not about
me anyway, it's about the incredible thing that happened in Sugar Loaf and the people who made it happen. You may have noticed their work swirling around this rant. As their bold truth is further revealed here, maybe you'll find it too much to bear and wish I'd shut-up. |
| 16 |
Only option for you is
to scoot on over to Lowes, buy the appropriate whacking mallet and get to pounding sand. Whichever hand you like to use for whacking and pounding, you will not stop me! |
| 17 |
And if you are stupid
enough to think I might be scared off by the threat of an organized mob hit, either on me or my loved ones, be advised, there is not a single person in this world I care about in the least, and I am myself basically suicidal... even spent some time in the loony bin for it. |
| 18 |
I'd actually 'thank'
you to take me out; go ahead; finish the job 'I' botched. Like I said, 'Pound sand'. Now brace yourself, here comes the truth. The hidden truth of Sugar Loaf. |
| 19 |
An uncomfortable truth
for lots o' locals but it's the absolute undenied verifiable truth, hidden under generational layers of systemic racism, cultural control, and socioeconomic bias. It's the truth grappling to keep me chained under this bridge, where, ironically, they're afraid I'll shake the foundations. |
| 20 |
I've been here before. To quote myself from Botanical Rain's intro, 'Unlike Dian Fossey I have not yet been murdered for my truth-saying but merely pommeled relentlessly by aggressive misandry, miseldry, and misehrity.' It's been a tough row to hoe. |
| 21 |
For a second there you
thought I was done, right? Hardly. Lets go take another look at them startup photos.... 'specially the ones with guns. You like guns don't ya? Everyone seems to. |
| 22 |
Oh, listen. The music's changed over to the tune used for that clueless professor's drone on things he knows nothin' about; he spent Sugar Loaf's heyday teaching in the city and would only drop by occasionally in order to tamp us down when our raging success once again proved too great a threat to his family's apple plantation tourist trap. |
| 23 |
Made a big stink about
illegal signage until it was his sign in question; treated us like indentured servants. Everybody did their best to avoid talkin' to him, but that didn't stop him from writin' a book and calling it the History Mystery and Magic of Sugar Loaf. I'm sure it was a mystery to him... since he'd never seen it or been part of it. Magical thinking for sure. |
| 24 |
But that's a whole 'nother
story; linked to the most recent Disney-fication of Sugar Loaf. In any case, with my rant out of the way we can get back to our startup photos of guns, ammo, and child grooming... enough black screen. |
| 25 |
Here, remember this
one of me and my best friend being groomed? Whoops, oops, oops (img stutters 4 kids then settles) Got it. Here ya go... being groomed to go kill gooks in South East Asia? |
| 26 |
1950s London Ohio was
a fine town... with a church or bar on every corner. Churches soothed the soul while prepping kids to kill foreigners somewhere far away; the bars gave courage while helping make sure that killing was the only choice. |
| 27 |
The local economy
rested squarely on the growing of corn, cows, pigs, and cannon fodder. Military service was the only choice after drinking away the first three. Remember: on every corner either alcohol for bravery or the prompting to war Jesus provided through the crusading clergy. |
| 28 |
You've not lived til a
store front preacher gets in your face for an hour or so Wednesday night screaming about how its your God given duty to fall in line and fly half way round the world in order to murder subsistence farmers with their unsuspecting families. Praise Jesus! |
| 29 |
My dad was a lifelong
high functioning alcoholic who knew the secret to me avoiding the same fate was most likely working in his 24 hour hamburger joint, all night Friday then early morning Sunday. Nightshifts 10 to 6 every Friday with a too quick recovery nap before starting again Sunday morning assured my high-school years were spent addled by permanent jet lag. |
| 30 |
No wild post
football-game Friday night drinking parties for this boy. Couldn't afford a car either. Obviously, if not for Affirmative Action scholarships and loans, this 25 cent hamburger flippin' boy wasn't going to college either, and you were never going to hear about Sugar Loaf. |
****** END ******