Trumps Xenophobes

Nick Masesso, Jr.

“And they don’t quite seem to understand; the way the hammer shapes the hand” – Casino Nation – Jackson Browne

Barbecues crackle from grease bubbles that drop and crystallize; looking like broken glass. The wafting above makes waves in the air like heat over a radiator. The aroma of fricasseed flesh wafts sour weenie smoke up and down the lacing of the shore.

Suddenly the world outside my writer’s window erupts into electric splinters as the patriotic bombs explode in the cloudless sky, showering the trees with a million tiny neon bulbs; the preparatory whistling sounds imitate a mortar attack. Swooping strands of light rising, rising, rising until they merge with the stars and make a bridge right up to the heavens; Boom! Boom! Boom! The fourth of July has come early to my middle American alcove.

Anything with a spine has fled; hunkered down and shivering in the forest while the…

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I’ll Never Forget What’s Her Name

Nick Masesso, Jr.

“If you’re traveling to the North Country Fair; where the winds hit heavy on the borderline; remember me to one who lives there; for she once was; a true love of mine.” – Girl from the North Country – Bob Dylan

She’d come by the Commune’ selling Kush she hawked for her dealer on the side.  Smoking hot, tiny and tight and Midwestern lovely with an air that spoke she came from good stock; a daddy’s little rich girl getting her kicks playing bad on the dirty side of the field; had that wild but pure charisma thing going in spades; a real heart breaker.

I never spoke to her much; Maverick did the deals with her and she’d hang for a while afterwards and toke up a bowl with us. She always gave me the eye and like most of them saw the power and indifference and probably relished…

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HOME

Nick Masesso, Jr.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqxENMKaeCU

Word arrived this morning from the oracle in Berkeley, Peter Z; along with a link (shown above) to 90 minutes of truth. Contemplating his message I wondered; will our story be that we arrived by chance through a miracle of evolution made possible by the extraordinary magical gift of regeneration and like a gluttonous species of self-serving greed on wheels harvested everything until it was finished or fouled, and then, residing over our own demise, ignominiously vanished into extinction?

Have we, with egos the size of cathedrals, sharpened our greed to the point we can split atoms with our desire? Will we fiber-optically connect the world to our every eager impulse, grease every dollar-green dream and gold-plated fantasy until every privileged human being becomes an aspiring emperor? 

As we scramble from one deal to the next, who’s got his eye on the planet? As the air thickens, the water sours, and even the bees honey takes…

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Hot Air Balloon

Nick Masesso, Jr.

“Do you think it matters how a man falls? When the falling is all that’s left; it matters a great deal.” – Lion in Winter – https://youtu.be/lKGPiecEEbA

It will almost have been worth it, enduring these many months of clownish embarrassment to America, to watch the slow-motion Titanic-like sinking of Donald The (T)Rump. My guess is he has about as much chance of winning as John Dillinger has rising from the dead. The Rumps chances of being Prezi are as dead as Disco.

The fun part of this three monkey; eyes, ears and mouth covered endurance trial, will be watching Rump decline, tumble and capitulate. His fall will be as macabre as any NASCAR crash we are ashamed to watch but feel strangely exhilarated by. I predict an ugly affair; one of bad form absent any sense of bearing or pride or self-esteem or good sportsmanship; a virtue that requires the loser…

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