Marvin Moonbat is back! After a short spring break hiatus, Marvin is once again in the House!
LEAVING YOUR HEART IN SAN FRANCISCO (By Marvin Moonbat)
Well, I’m back from my vacation and and let me tell you, it was a life changing experience for me and Chloe.
First, we went to Acapulco. Nice place, kind of rowdy with all the kids, but very relaxing nonetheless. Chloe accidentally got sunburned and suffered a panic attack because she figured it was her death warrant what with the hole in the ozone layer and all. So we went to see this Shaman who for the nominal fee of $10 gave Chloe a salve made of…well, we weren’t exactly sure what was in it. It looked like a goat turd, had the consistency of cat vomit, and smelled like donkey piss. Anyway, the guy was nice. He said for another $10 he would do this Indian ritual thing where he would banish the evil spirits and everything. I kind of doubted it, what with my prejudice against religion. But Chloe’s in to this sort of thing and he went ahead.
First, the guy sort of hopped around on one foot then another, chanting some kind of weird incantation that sounded like “The people…united… will never be defeated” or at least that kind of rhythm if you get my drift. Then he started to howl like a wailing banshee and bashing this club about 6 inches from Chloe’s head, who was lying on the ground next to this monster campfire. Chloe looked pretty serene, like she was really diggin’ it. Me? The dude was scaring the crap out of me. Chloe is a very trusting sort having lived a sheltered life in a commune with her mother. But I grew up in Chicago. You tend to be a little more cynical about people if you meet enough of them.
Anyway, the holy man finished with his “Out damn Devil” rant and then threw some stuff into the fire that caused this huge shower of sparks. It kinda made me wish we had smoked that killer weed we got on the beach before we came. It would have been even more awesome. Afterward, the Shaman assured Chloe that she’d never get cancer and could he please have $25 for performing the ceremony. When I kind of mentioned that he had said it would be $10 the guy got real animated and said that gringos always come down and try to rip off the brown people. Chloe agreed and made me give the guy $50 just for getting him mad.
Never argue with a woman with a killer sunburn and who smells of donkey piss. You’ll lose every time.
Anyway, Mexico was OK. From there, Chloe decided she wanted to see her mother who lived in this commune outside of San Francisco. I was kind of down on the whole idea. I mean, I may be a progressive with anarchist tendencies, but these people in the commune are out there. They’ve not only rejected modern society, some of them have rejected humanity. They’ve taken on the appearance and characteristics of animals. One guy thought he was a dog and not only barked at strangers, but also pissed on your leg if you weren’t careful. Some woman thought she was an aardvark. She kept sticking a straw in her nose and putting it down the holes of anthills. Then there was this guy who thought he was a porcupine. He had taken the art of body piercing to an extreme that even I didn’t think was possible.
Chloe’s mother was pretty normal, though. She was cool about Chloe and I sleeping together, although since we all slept in the same great big bed I didn’t have much desire to play “hide the kielbasa” what with her mother sleeping right next to us.
The highlight of our vacation was definitely our trip to San Francisco. Walking through the Haight-Asbury district, I felt like weeping. These are my kind of people, I thought. This is where I belong. There were hippies, yippies, punks, whole earthers, greens, goons, gang bangers, rappers, religious nuts, and a whole slew of tourists. It was like these good people were putting on a show, taking us back to a time when progressives were in power and people actually listened to what we had to say.
Ah… those were the days! Days of Rage. Days of Thunder on the Left. Free Love! Cheap Dope! Down with the “Man!” It was so inspiring, I wanted to move out here just to be a part of it all.
Then I realized those days are pretty much gone now. If you looked closely, you could see the grey hair and wrinkles on the faces of the flower children. And the younger folk didn’t seem so committed to the cause as they were to trying to scrounge a living by pan handling the tourists.
This is why I like the anarchists. At least they’re committed to a cause. Just what that cause is I couldn’t tell you. Even after Chloe and I went to the Anarchist Book Fair and sampled a few tracts from some anarchist authors, we still couldn’t quite figure them out. I know what they’re against. They hate government. They loathe technology. They despise modernity. I just couldn’t figure out what they were for...except they were for anything America was against which made perfect sense to me.
To try to learn more, Chloe and I went to hear Ward Churchill speak. When the great man entered the room, the place erupted into a prolonged, heartfelt applause that nearly brought tears to my eyes. Now here was a guy who spoke truth to the man! I found out so much I didn’t know about American history. You know, the good stuff, the stuff they don’t put into the history books. Why if I didn’t know better, I’d say that Professor Churchill was making the stuff up as he went along. He made it clear that when he was talking about “Little Eichmann’s” at the twin towers on 9/11 he wasn’t talking about the “little people” like janitors and food service workers or maintenance people. They were innocent. After all, they’re part of the oppressed masses who don’t even know they’re oppressed.
At least, I think that’s what he was talking about. It was kind of hard to follow what with the Prof jumping from topic to topic talking about killing indians one minute and then talking about killing Arabs the next. Sort of reminded me of this crazy comparative lit teacher I had last year who, after spending an entire class talking about how to make a tin foil hat more effective against government “death rays” that would penetrate your brain if you weren’t careful, was dragged off in a strait jacket by guys in white coats. I didn’t see any white coats coming for Professor Churchill, although there was a rumor going around that his 3rd wife used to call him “Psych Ward.”
Anyway, all in all it was a great experience. Chloe got to see her mother and meet a real live Shaman (I threw the cat vomit salve away the minute her sunburn was better). And I got to see San Francisco and dream of a time when I can go and live there with all the other progressives in perfect love and harmony.
So it’s back to reality. I’m already late to my “History of American Genocide” class. I get to find out how the prof liked my paper I submitted for mid terms called “War on Terror: Showing Terrorists Respect is Better than Killing Them.”
I should get an “A+” for the title alone.