These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... The Situation

Big Daddy told 'em lots a stuff. He shimmy-shamed his electronic particles all up and down the internet, kissin' up to other programs and squeezin' the shit out a them. He know how them Chinese goomers make them bee-bops. He know what them M.I.R. (Mars Is Red) bastids want a do. He know how much help The United States and Provinces of North America really gonna give. He even know the secret 'gredient in Coca-Cola. He also know they growin' a new edition a his grandson Alec. But he doan wanna talk 'bout that. Why jinx it? An' he 'specially liked talkin' a Little Davey. He liked that part best of all. 


So after...when Bart switch him off... he drift back to his carefully programmed simulation of Mars, circa 2075, right after the first big Change. Things was rough. Air still scratchy-like. Even so, chupicabras woke up real fast. Folks gettin' chomped up left and right. Sky-ponies still not hundred percent. Few look all right. Rest got crappy lookin' wings. Tuva-Tuva startin' a re-constitute. Like Lazarus stumblin' out from the tomb, that what they was like. Earth folk (new ones, I mean) used a give 'em soup. Didn't know they long lost cousins back then. Now they do know and it still doan make no difference.


But Johnny got a real nice spread. You seen it...The Polvarosa (that mean red dust in Spanish). Big house all brand new. Barn right spruce lookin'. Stables all first rate. Mostly all Arabians back in those days. He ain't married to Loretta yet. But she do come out with her mama for visits from time to time. She not from Barsoom. That always a wild kind a place. Her folks from Rodenberry. They more churchy-like. Still had the Cafe at The Crossroads. You know. Where the Walgreen was? An' a right nice General Merchandise Emporium. Think there used a be a little library and community social hall too........ (wait, lemme look) Yeah, they did. They must a, 'cause it still in the program. 


So Johnny settin' out on the big, ole, wide veranda, squintin' into the sun and sippin' on a ice cold glass a whiskey.  Got his best digitally programmed canine companion, Caleb (that mean dog in Hebrew).  Brand new, re-constituted Tuva-Tuva woman out in the kitchen tryin' a fry up some eggs. Gus and Isaac comin' over to play cards. Maybe sheriff gonna join 'em. who knows? 


Sometime that Arianna Huffington (she immortalized as a hologram, jus' like him) get jealous a all this phony shit. She glad when Loretta not here. And what he got ain't the REAL Loretta. The real Loretta never did have herself 'lectrified. No, she jus' die regular-like. She ain't in no universal web. She in Heaven and that another kind a place entirely.


Johnny gonna ask Gus to help him. Gus a hologram, 'lectrified, immortal, semi-dead guy too. They gonna shimmy-sham theyselves all over the web. They gonna learn even more stuff. 'Cause Bart gonna need it when he bust his family out a there. Gotta bust out, less he want that bunker be a tomb.


M.I.R. goomers fixin' somethin'.  They fixin' somethin' big. Ever hear tell a folks what went 'gook' from Ebola? Liquified liver runnin' out they eyes and nose.  Itchin' like a bed bug  campground. Shit hole worse than the Mighty Mississipp.  Well then, you know what the first stage gone be like....


Second stage gone be like spontaneous human combustion... only not near as nice.


Hells-a-poppin'...Yes siree.....


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... what the cowboy said

So Bart knew things. His semi-dead, digitalized daddy told him plenty when he came back. Only this time, the second time, somebody else come wit him. Little Davey seen him settin' up in one a the settin' rooms, lookin' out a window. It not a real window. Ain't got no glass. It jus' a screen, but a real good screen. What it show look positively genuine. Most time they got it set on Europe, Venice mostly. Look like you spyin' out through a window on The Grand Canal. Folks says it the view from Palazzo Barbero , one a them curlyqued-up, white marble, old timey, rich folk joints. Bart jus' set there watchin' them gondolas float by. And look...Peggy Guggenheim jus' wave to him. He doan wave back though. He jus' look. Bart got brains. He know what's real. Zeb come in wantin' a talk politics. But Bart say - Boy, you talk like a man wit' a paper asshole. What for you talkin' politics? We doan know what kind a world gone be out there. Why you think they gone need you?........ Zeb jus' breathe out real fast. Kind a like a sigh, but heavier. Then he go in a kitchen for a little peanut butter sandwich. Set there lookin' out a 'window' at Old New Orleans. He like them real fancy, jazz funerals they got there. He like the purdy, octaroon, Creole society matron live across the way. Look at her settin' up on her 'balcon' sippin' that cold, sweet tea. She mighty finne for jus' a computer simulation.


And when Bart go back down to that sanctuary he bring Davey wit him.... Excuse me. Did I already tell you that? I think I did. You will have to forgive me. Ain't no lonesome pines down here for me to pass through. It kind a difficult bein' a quasi-mythological figure in such a concrete, cold hard place. I The Voice a the Lonesome Pines....as  you most likely know.


Davey go all wide eye when he see his legally dead great grand daddy. Back in Johnny's day ain't nobody called pop-pop. You a Big Daddy (grandfather) or you a Little Daddy (plain old regular father). And Johnny Texaco definitely a Big Daddy. He go all misty eye when he see the boy. So I know he more than jus' a hologram. He ain't no artificial simulation, like that Peggy Guggenheim in her gondola, or that octaroon society lady, Madam Casanove ( though they both did actually suck air at one time).


Johnny say - Put her there, boy....... And Davey, real careful like, stick out a  finger. Johnny reach up an' touch it. Davey smile. Johnny smile back. Then Bart heft him up on his lap and they set there, listenin' to what Big Daddy  got a say......


(if you are not able to clearly comprehend this episode, scrollin' down to the previous posting should set things straight for you)


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Johnny Texaco Speaks

Hobart (Bart) quietly closed the door to the sacred chamber and sat down. It wasn't a large place, no more than five by seven feet. Contractors thought it gonna be a toilet. Family did not want 'em to know. So it ain't got no commode or nothin. Just a plain, old polished concrete floor, grey, flecked, granite walls and  a white ceiling that radiates a soft white light. Only furnishings are one square, black leather, tufted ottoman and a three foot high, rectangular polished concrete plant stand. But it ain't got no plant on it. That's where the little titanium box what got Bart's daddy in it sets. Miss Sissie say it look like a cheap, bargain basement, above ground mausoleum. 'Cept instead of a titanium box there'd be like a little bronze urn with a dull, brushed finish. But seein' as she don't spend much time in there, her opinion ain't worth chicken shit. That what Bart think. He don't say it, but he think it. 


So he set hisself down on the black, squishy seat, scootch it forward to face the box, clear his throat and prepare to talk. Whole thing work on voice recognition. It really is a very ingenious, sublime contraption. 


Bart say - Daddy, I wanna talk to you........ Voice-in-the-box say - That you, boy?.......... Bart say - Yep, it me....... Then a little electronic hum commences vibrating out from that Rubik's Cube sized sanctuary. And next thing you know we got a itty-bitty, six inch tall, ever-so-slightly potbellied, but still trim, silver haired rodeo dude stompin' around and smokin' a ceegar. But nobody gotta worry 'bout no smoke none, 'cause he jus' a hologram. Ever once in a while he flicker. That how you know. 


Bart say - Daddy, we got problems............. Daddy say - No, shit, Sherlock. Don't you think I know!? I waft through thirty two on-line, hinky-dink, newspaper crappiolas every day.............. Bart say - Then you know 'bout Alec?.............Daddy jus' swallow and nod.......... Bart don't dwell on that subject, 'cause he can tell it pain his holographic daddy jus' as much as it do him......... So Bart say - You still tradin' sparks wit' that little Arianna Huffington hologram?............ And Johnny (that his daddy's name) say - Ain't no business a yours, boy. My Loretta up in Heaven, but I  down here, so I gotta do sumpin' a keep 'busy,' don't I? Now shet up and spit it all out. What you done wrong now?


So Bart snort back a bit a snot, square his shoulders and start talking. Worse the story get, more that little 'lectronic goomer start grinnin'. That jus' how Johnny be. He gotta be the big rooster, don't you know. He gotta be the top dog. But still, you do gotta give him credit. I mean since he been 'dead' (technically) that goomer learn a lot. Finally did learn hisself a little Tuva-Tuva, how to play pinochle, how to cook a mean batch a bahklava. (them semi-immortal holograms claim they eats stuff. can't figure what it taste like to 'em, but I don't know.) He can wriggle his digital ass into and out of all kinda programs. Life jus' one big holodeck (if you remembers Star Trek) to John Paul Texaco.  An' he wanna get this meetin' over real fas', 'cause he got The Calgary Stampede waitin'. Y'all gotta see them smart little boots Arianna Huffington got on.


Tells his sonny-boy to come back tomorrow (he don't know it night). Then he jus' give out a not so itty-bitty rebel yell and BAM, he disappears. 


Bart do try to call him back, but all he get is a little, old lady eatin' a hot-dog..... an' she jus' tell him a go to hell and drop dead.....'cause like, I guess, she really do like that hot-dog.........


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These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... THE DEAD WALK AMONG US

There are ways to preserve a 'presence.' And it is not known if this is truly the original, singular essence of creation, or merely an exceedingly exact copy. But it sees. And it hears and it speaks. Not everyone is so preserved. Many view it as an imprisonment of the soul. Some see it as torture. 


What happens it this.  A group of scientists and technicians send tachyons and other sub atomic particles streaming through a human brain just before the actual instant of death. Each particle melds with an equal measure of cerebral 'charge.' For what passes as memory is really only a complex series of electrical impulses. And these tiny bits of past experience dance off into a long conga line, only to be captured and sequenced in an intricate, binary program. Fleshly life ceases, but silicon existence endures.


Few have achieved it. Those of a deep and profound faith reject it. Others , of modest means, cannot afford the hefty freight. Yet among the families of the rich there are 'ancestors'........forebears who have never left. Not many. Each clan has perhaps one or two. The Texacos have one. He? She? It? abides within a small, titanium box. And this special relic rests within a chamber beneath the bunker. Bart has the key. He wears it 'round his neck, upon a leather thong. It gives voice to his father. 


And  tonight (or what passes for night beneath the surface of the Martian capital of Barsoom), the father speaks again.. Such mutual communications are rare, for technical as well as emotional reasons. They can be very dangerous. 'Souls' can be lost. 


But Bart has a request to make. He wants his father to swim through the vast, eternal, conscious 'net' and find things. He needs secrets. The family needs secrets. 


And tonight he means to know......


So he waits until the others all drift off, or at least retreat to the comfort and privacy of their chambers. Then he opens the passageway to the 'special room' and steps down. 


Five heartbeats later the portal closes. None can see the seam. It's time for the 'magic' to take place......


Ghost riders 'neath the sky........


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vampire wonderland: THE LITTLE MATCH BOY ~~~~ a re-telling of H.C. And...

vampire wonderland: THE LITTLE MATCH BOY ~~~~ a re-telling of H.C. And...: It was quiet in the tram car. The air was still. Tiny pellets of sleet peppered the roof. The new boy ran to the back and struggled to force...

These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Homo Sapien Martianus

They been in the bunker 'bout three days now. Ev'rybody all settled it.  Miss Sissie actually like it. This her place. This her home, or part of it. She got a kitchen. And it not full a all them 'foody-food-food' machines what do the job automatically. Y'all gotta stir the batter if you want any pancakes 'round here. Right now she practicin'. She practicin' makin' her Pascal bread..... Sort a like a little, dried up crepe. It not hard. She gonna do it for The Feast a The Lord's Passover...... 'This is the bread of haste'.....That what He said. That what God said. Means you all gone go 'gook' soon. 'Gook' mean that l'il, 'lectric sound 'puters make when you shut 'em down. It what them 'Troopers' say for 'die.' Nobody kicks no bucket 'round here. They just 'go gook.' Rhymes with 'cook,' if you tryin' a figure it out. 


What God want 'em a know is ----- Y'all better do lots a real, good, lovin' stuff now, if you wanna move in with Me later........ That's what He sayin', if you payin' 'tention........ An' Miss Sissie sure do pay attention. Sometime, when she got The Lord hinky-dink real bad she go 'round tellin' folk - He save your soul for a reason! He take you outta Egypt for a reason! Now what you gone do about it!?....... Then she stand there lookin' at you, like she God's sec'etary or somethin'. An' all this interplanetary fuedin' gone on startin' a get to her. 


Sometime she talk 'bout Earth. Say she wanna  go there. She wanna live there. Not jus' her. She wanna take all of 'em back wit her.  Bart say what they gone do 'bout they Martian hearts? 'Cause, you know, they all born here. They got the bones too. Got them Martian bones. That why they all a few inches taller (than Earth folk, I mean). Sure, some folks does it. Take a lot a therapy. Gotta put stem cells in the heart muscle. Gotta mortar up them bones wit a lot a calcium. Gotta get used to pullin' 'round three times the load. Earth got that heavy pull. It not like the gravity we got 'round here.


Them soldiers from The Empire a China startin' a feel that now. Bones gettin' all jellyfied. Muscles goin' all stringy. Oh, they do got remedies. But the whole experience still tend to be real disorientin'. It like plantin' a cactus in swamp water, then yellin' that it ain't growed right. Space do got it's rules. 


I can't 'magine them goomers out on Europa, livin' in them 'pods' out on the ice. They do not penetrate under that frigid crust. They do not go down to where them manta ray people live. Robot/android goomers does that. All them science goomers does is keep ev'rything runnin' right...wind the clocks, if you know what I mean. And then, when they look out into the sky-what-ain't-no-sky, they sees Jupiter, loomin' up there like a big, ole monster beach ball. That gotta sour  your grits. 


But hoomin beans funny that way. Some pay good money a tote theyselves out here on honeymoons . Bart and Miss Sissie did, back in the day. Shacked up in one a them bubble towns over on the other side. Took a submarine ride down under a see them manta ray goomers. Folks does that. Scientists too. They takes submarine rides. Just ain't no gettin' out and rubbin' noses, if  you know what I mean. Them germy-germs we all got jus' too damn different. An' nobody wanna chance no new type a 'mushy fever.'


Sure hope that sucker Miss Monica got in her belly grow up right. Sure hope they finds a way to make this place work. 


I like Mars. Can't rightly see myself bein' 'voice a the lonesome pines' nowhere's else.....


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Of course you know VULCAN was basically Ancient Hebrew, don't you?

This is not a conventional post, but a sharing of the TRUTH. The OLAM (the world) will not end on December 21, 2012, though another momentous event will transpire. 


Upon that date, our star system will pass through the Equitorial Plane of NEHAR-DI-NUR, The Stream of Fire, or The Stream of Light. You may know it as The Milky Way. It is our galactic home.


And each time we make such a transept (by certain reckonings once every two thousand years.....by others, once every twenty four or twenty six thousand years) a new Star Era dawns upon the world.


That date (12/21/12) will see the dawning of the age of D'ili. You may know it as the age of Aquarius. A time when Heaven pours forth upon the Earth like water from an eternally bountiful pitcher.


HUMANITY COMES OF AGE...........


Before The World of Truth appears, The World of Lies must vanish. ------ old Central European rabbinic proverb.....


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