Art Not Love Not
by Bill Gallagher Hachita NM
Saturday, May. 09, 2009 at 8:00 PM
Piece.
I was at the Hachita transfer station the other day, keeping the attendant company for his last hour of duty, and he turned on his shortwave radio, and foam started coming out of the speaker!
HEEEeeeyyyyyyyyyy if I get my teeth into your leg I will RIP it RIGHT OFF YOUR BODY, praise Jesus is LORD, I am ready for the KING! Hayeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy...blessed be the truth makers, grrrrrrrrr....and if not, SMASH them were they stand, in the name of the LORD praise JEEEEZussssss heyyyyyyyyyyyyy...grrrrrrrrrrr...
I think the man was spitting all over himself, and I am sure he was doing the mike, because like I said, it was coming right out of the radio speaker...he sounded like he was zoned out on some days of sleep deprivation and some real pure methamphetamine; the zealous love he had for his male lord was all over the place and burning with a lustful heat...seriously. It was ugly, just ugly as sin.
"OK", I said to dumpster brother, "Turn that unAmerican and bestial filth off, would you please?" He did and we progressed into more pleasant conversation, or at least into conversation productive, versus destructive, I am sure.
This reminded me of a time I was selling some of my leather and stone work over at the flea market on east Fowler Ave in Tampa, Florida. Being a Tampan may not mean being number one, but they are way up in there. This flea market was way way out on the far north east outskirts of town. May have been called Big Top Flea Market, yeah, but can't really remember, for sure it is called something else now, or I bet it is. Place had a bad reputation of building itself up then raising space rents out into space, even charging for parking after awhile, then kaput, it would close for indefinite periods, and start all over again. It was a cycle and overall a real dud.
Where was I? Oh yeah, at that flea market selling some stuff, but not to be confused with the Highway 301 N. Flea Market around the corner at 11802-06 HWY 301 N Thonotosassa FL, thats where I had a full time shop and business for a few years, and actually lived for awhile. All in all, thats another story entirely.
There are lots of Carnie peops around this area of Tampa, because of its proximity to the Carnie town of Gibsonton Florida, Gibtown to those who speak the lingua local, the city vernax. Every city has that, its like a fingerprint, but better.
So I had the good or bad fortune this particular day (Its all perspective dear reader, you invent it, or not) selling stuff at big top flea market off east Fowler Avenue at Tampa, to set up across from a real live and well experienced hawker of wares and products. I never knew about this kind of thing. Ignorant-plus was I. This is an art, and an ancient one at that. It is at least as old as the whip, and most likely older. This type of vocal coercion is even more successful than the whip, under most circumstances. I learned much that day, and am glad I did. Less ignorant by a long shot in fact.
I watched the carny hawker sell his product, a car polish, and it was amazing. I made enough with my art to cover the rent space, but not the sunscreen or coffee I used, this guy had people reaching involuntarily for their wallets at certain given points in his spiel, EVERY time. He sold a lot of car polish, in bottles he had made up himself, with a label printed off a xerox machine. I looked of course.
It went like this:
The man would see his customers coming down the line of the browsers, and time it perfectly. His customers were invariably older guys who spent a lot of zen time waxing their car, maybe a lot of valium or prozac time, is what it is, kids. Anyway, this hawker would squirt lighter fluid on the hood of his older van which had a real nice paint and wax job on it, then he would light his hood on fire!
"Heeeyyyyy I can even light the paint on fire without a worry because of this new miracle product"...his cadence was perfect, and he pulled a crowd quick, as he put out the fire...."See the discoloration of the paint from the heat? Grrrrrrr....this wonder product....space age technology...Heeeeyyyyyy"
I am getting sleepy thinking about it, and wonder if people like this are not trained by the CIA and out doing dirty work or just besmirched beyond repair for some reason unfathomable to normal people. Perhaps they refused taking pictures of their boss in a less than savory sexual relationship or something. Never to be considered a true agent of the true brotherhood again...exiled to the carnival and called out only when unworthy craftsmen are needed...?
But I digress.
This man not only taught me a few things about verbal negotiations (You never know who is watching and what they will get) but is my sole anchor to things which bleed like stinking pus from radios on the shortwave bands these days. These people are ALL trained mind control experts. Their love of lords and kings and a male deity with less or more (perspect again) than latent BDSM aspects bespeaks a closet mentality and a truly lethal confusion. The radio heads are getting overdosed with bad EM too. So they won't be around real long, theres that.
Considering that last, I fully encourage this type of behaviour amongst the genetically inferior lord lovers, who seem simply predisposed to the traitors mind set. It ain't country music, it is country cacophony, but not the country of America. Not at all.
