UNDERGROUND A&R REPORT

ECONOMY COLLAPSING......THE MAN REFUSES TO CHANGE HIS WAYS.......

Dow has biggest point drop ever, fuel is scare in over 1/3 of the nation, wars drag on, the government is broke and estimates now the average citizen owes close to half a mil over the next 30 years to even get it close to paying off what it owes NOW. Despite all this, I witness a spectacle on a small level that plays out on a larger level, and points greatly as to WHY the USA is broke and busted....

Telling, oh so telling:
http://money.cnn.com/2008/09/29/markets/markets_newyork/index.htm?cnn=yes

Home depot in Calhoun didn't have any of the wort I am planting so despite not really having the gas I decided to head over to Rome, even though the clerk on the phone said she would get someone to look and see if they had those plants before I took the trip, after waiting 20 minutes I figured go on over, I'd stop and holler at the pretty shoe store clerk on my Myspace friend list over the pretense of checking out some new boots.

After my outing, and successfully snaggin' the plants, I had just the $6 and some change to get some of my favorite boneless wings at a nearby restaurant down by the river. I told myself, nah go on to the house and get some work done, but I was finally voted out by my stomach, which taking sides had taken to rumblin' and growlin' and making noise like a chaff sifter.

I sat down and ordered, and noticed up on the floor level over a ways a table of about 7-8 people, by far the loudest table in the place. They were all government employees, all three levels, Federal/State/Local, some I recognized from past encounters, whether dealing with zoning and licenses, or by some other means of having to deal with some kind of autocratic entity.

There was a great debate going on at their table about the presidential race, on the floor at the moment was discussion of Sarah Palin. There were a couple of women at the good-ol boy luncheon today, so the tone was down a bit on the usual rudeness an all male entourage would be expelling over shrimp cocktail and beers (there was both on the table) about a woman possibly being the leader of our great nation.

As I turned my attention away and to the past weekend's football highlights being shown above the bar in the center of the room, my eyes caught sight right outside the rows of windows right behind the government debate team up top; all together in the rows of parking spaces next to the building under the windows were their cars.

There was one larger government sedan, the police package cruiser units with the big 8's, usually 18-20 miles to he gallon with foot light on the juicer, A couple really big SUV's, like new Denali's and I think an Expedition and two new model Explorers; there was also two larger 4x4 trucks, one a brand new dually with the cattleman's package, a chrome and steel upgrade with nice tow and pull bars, chrome stepsides, chrome tipped turn pipe turndowns, a hoggin' V-10, a row of cab-top spotlights and a chrome chain wrap framing the government tag.

I thought this, of all the excess I was looking at, was the strangest. I knew the man that drove it was an investigative detective, and he drove this tax payer bought vehicle many hundreds of miles a day for his agency, and they have nothing to do with livestock or agriculture in their job function.

As I glanced at the TV closest to me, which was CNN reporting on the market meltdown following the the government's temporary decision not to plunge us another few trillion dollars in debt by passing a "get-out-jail free" card package to bail out corrupt businesses that have been screwing the people for the past decade, and now, along with their cronies at the state departments, are broke, busted, and telling us, their true masters and their funders, that we WILL pay more in taxes, because we MUST in order for the "nation" and the "economy" to continue.

While I sat there and listened to the news report, watching the videos of people panicking on wall street, at the long lines at the pumps, people in despair in the growing unemployment lines, my attention was jarred by loud laugher; the government employee table was all smiles, a toast being made, as to what I didn't know.

All I do know, is my tired, broke, unusually irritated ass had had enough. I stood up and walked towards their table.

One of the county managers I knew personally saw me approaching the table and greeted me, "afternoon Mr. West, how's it going?"

"Fine man!" I smiled and took in the faces at the knight's round table, and noticed a waitress tray with a check, and a state government credit card sitting on top of the check.

"You guys having a good lunch?" I continued, noticing a few faces were looking at one another, smiles now gone, more like "who the fuck is this?"

Perhaps it was my dirty work clothes, my sweat soaked wide brimmed harvest hat, my shabby leather scabbard holding my big blade survival knife, or my tattered old work boots, taped and super glued soles in their last days, disintegrating to the point of unusable in the very near future.....

Whatever it was I could clearly tell, a few here at the knight's table didn't feel I should grace the presence of nice salaried & pensioned, well heeled and clothed civil employees. Perhaps I might have smelled a tad, ruining the atmosphere of their royal luncheon.

I knew I'd have to be crafty in delivering my message....

"Damn, it's hell gettin' gas nowadays, isn't it?" I intoned.

Silence. Perhaps a few of them realized at that instant, na, no problem for those big dogs out in that parking lot......they have their own fuel farms.

I went on "geeze you'd think with the costs of everything and our economy collapsing, the government would downsize those tanks and go with fours and renewable energy vehicles. That's alot juice flowin' to run those fine machines every day, that we're having to pay for"

The only African American in the group spoke up. "You're right, you're right. Why don't you write your congressman?" He looked at me and smiled.

"I write Congress when they need to hear from me, and they damn well know this splurging for the king and queen has broke the citizenry."

The eldest man in the group, definitely well paid by his tailored suit, half a grand top line shoes, and some of the nicest white gold jewelery I'd seen in awhile, looked me up and down, stopping to look at my boots a bit longer, looked up at me right in the eyes and said, "I don't think you need to be worrying too much about it, those who's job it is will get it fixed and back on track. I don't think you're paying so much that it's breaking you more than anybody else."

I laughed. "Son" I said. "You don't know how much I pay, or whether I need to be worried about you people sucking the life out of this nation....."

The farthest man in the corner next to the window, a late 20-something man with a jarhead hair cut stood up. His glock strapped tight to his hip.

"We're not sucking the life outta shit mister. I don't know who you are, or who you think you are, but you need to go sit your ass back down and leave our table alone. I don't get paid to listen to your mouth.. Go tell it to the judge!" He yelled.

I turned around, the entire restaurant was quiet, looking at us, only the sports and news highlights were to be heard. I looked at this behemoth, his eyes glaring with the fire of beer and testosterone, I looked at the faces that were looking back, kept smiling, and winked at one of the cute gals in the group.

The manager of the restaurant came running up. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Yeah", Sgt. Scream went on yelling, "this son of a bitch thinks he's our boss, comes running over here and starts lecturing us on how to run America."

"I didn't run over here dude," I tell the manager, "I was just telling these folks how the country is in real trouble and suggestin maybe startin' at the bottom line and gettin' these worker-bears outta those monsters outside and into something we, the people, who fund all this big on going party, might can afford a little more."

The manager opened his mouth to speak, but the Enforcer, hand now on his piece, tie flung over his shoulder, started moving from the corner towards us, and had this to say.....

"I think you just need to leave the building. We've heard enough of your damned bullshit and you've disturbed our lunch. Now move on to the door mister. Go back your hog farm...."

"I don't farm pigs Rambo I grow herbs" I said.

"OK, your dope growing......"

"Who's growing dope motherfucker" I took the snap off my knife and got ready to protect myself from this crazed lunatic.

The manager grabbed my arm. "You just need to leave" and started pulling me towards the door.

"Make them leave" I said. "They're finished with their meal and I haven't even got mine yet."

"And you won't be eating in here today, either." He said quietly while continuing to escort me to the door.

"Go back to your farm buckwheat!" The man with the gun yelled out, his table erupting in laughter. I walked out the door into the hot Georgia fall sunshine, thinking, yeah, they'd help destroy that ecological system too.

A waitress came up behind me as I went to get in my car and gave me a box with my food in it. She was kinda goth with a big pretty smile.

"I think it was cool the way you told those assholes." she said. "That one loud mouth motherfucker comes in here three or four times a week and drinks and hits on all of us."

"I didn't pay for this" I said as I went for my wallet.

"Don't worry about it. It's covered" she said smiling as she skipped off.

I think those were the best damned wings I ever ate.