A Place Called Camelot

There once was a place called Camelot. . .


In this place all things were possible. There were jobs, and cars, and washing machines, and TV sets that could receive three channels on a clear day. Walt Disney still had Annette under contract, and she was perfect. And there was this man in the White House.


It took all four Beatles to replace John F. Kennedy. His wife looked like a movie star, and his kids did, too. As a ten-year-old, I could mimic his Boston accent, and my father’s friends would laugh their heads off at parties. “Aye, John Eeeeef Kennedddddy . . . ” He’d begin with that line, and go on to put the wood to that fat guy in Russia, or that Mexican who was running Cuba, or anybody else who thought they could stand up to America.


I had no idea where Boston was, or what a Democrat was, or even what a communist was, but I KNEW, John F. Kennedy was my president. When we ate supper I would imagine him dropping by, I could just see it, because that was the kind of guy he was in my young mind. It was a grand illusion.


America was slipping into decline, but we were so poor we couldn’t tell. Dimes actually looked bigger if you grew up in Texas. The lights never went off in our house, but the bill was only, like, eight dollars or so. I think water might have been free, I don’t know. But I knew who the president was, and I knew that when I grew up, everything was going to be alright.


There is a fact among people of my generation. We all remember exactly where we were when we heard about the events in Dallas. I had been to the nurse at Nolan Jr. High, and she sent me back to class. As I rounded the corner by the cafeteria, heading down the west hallway, about three classrooms down, the intercom came on, and America died that day. The grand illusion evaporated like a Penn and Teller magic show. They turned us out, and we all went home. When i got home my parents were acting like Hank Williams just died. I sat at the dinner table that night, and I cried. I still remember. We had liver and onions.


Then came Johnson, and Vietnam, Nixon, Charles Manson, the Twin Towers, and Waco! We all struggle to endure the smell of the rotting corpse America had become. The country didn’t just suddenly run off the rails. That train had been swerving for a long time, but somehow, President Kennedy made us believe that his hand was on the wheel, and it was all gonna be alright.


Last night I was up researching the tragic event in Waco this week. I ended by looking at a picture of a dead biker, resting beside his Harley. He looked so serene, lying there in his Sunday jeans, and his magnificent colors still on. And for some reason President Kennedy came to mind. And again, I cried. I cried for the biker, I cried for President Kennedy, and I cried for America. America is lost, but we in the Texas movement are going to find it again, and we’re going to give it back to you! We owe President Kennedy that much.


There are historians, and political analysts who point out his flaws. I know all about Marilyn Monroe, and Joe Kennedy being a bootlegger, I don’t care! I still can’t erase the image of that hallway at Nolan Jr. High that was burned into my brain on November 22, 1963. As I approached that junction in that hallway that day I was walking in John F. Kennedy’s America. By the time the speaker went silent, I was standing in TEXAS!


There once was a place called Camelot . . .




The Problem With Waco

After my sterling, Pulitzer Prize winning conclusion to yesterday’s article, if you understood that I have no love for Waco, you’d be right. As a matter of fact, if ISIS were to hit Waco I’d probably just say, “Good shot!” I have reasons for this. I didn’t just pick Waco because I got a speeding ticket there. For all its Baylor University, and that silly bridge, Waco is the most convoluted, screwed up mess I’ve ever seen.

After my article yesterday I did my usual research. As you may or may not know, I’m going to Waco to support the victims of the latest perversion of justice perpetrated by that thin blue line we’ve all come to know and love. I alluded to the “other” little adventure back in ’93 not all that far from Twin Peaks. A place called Mount Carmel.

Now, before I get started I’d like to set things straight. David Koresh was a weirded out soap box preacher looking forward to the end of the world. He had his own explanation for the Book of Revelation. So did Joseph Smith, Charles Russell, Jerry Falwell, and every Pentecostal preacher who ever talked in tongues. When you take a highly encrypted work, in Greek no less, written by a guy who didn’t want to get crucified, that’s what you get. Nowhere in the work does it say, “Jesus will return at seven o’clock, April 16, 2017, right after the nightly news.” It says things like, “Know the signs,” and right THERE is the rub! Early Christians were so busy looking up for the “return in this generation,” that they failed to notice those lions spilling out into the arena for the entertainment of the unwashed masses of Rome. So, for over two thousand years Christians have been pouring over Revelation trying to pinpoint the date, which was EXACTLY what Jesus told them NOT to do. David Koresh was no different. If you want to gain followers just tell a bunch of people that Jesus is going to pick up the mortgage. A little wine always helps.

Let’s be frank. Religious freedom in America is a myth. You are religiously free so long as you conform. You can have church on Sunday morning, and eat fried chicken that afternoon, but if you are Mormon, and bring TWO wives to dinner Uncle Sam will declare war on your whole friggin’ state! And the Muslims rant and rave about how we don’t respect their “prophet,” well get in line buddy. That path to persecution has been well worn by thousands before you! I have observed that when some group claims that God is on their side their will invariably be an opposing group claiming sole ownership of the Deity, leading free thinkers, such as myself to conclude that God simply MUST be bi-polar. Is He? Well, of course He isn’t. Religion is! Religion is man’s feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable. Write that down, there’ll be a quiz later.

All this having been said, was David Koresh any crazier than a Hare Krishna banging those gongs at LAX, begging for change? Well, no he wasn’t. But, the Hare Krishna has one thing going for him that David overlooked. The guy at the airport is in California, and David chose to live in bat-crap crazy Waco, the epicenter of knowledge, mom’s apple pie, and law enforcement who wouldn’t know what the constitution was if it ran up and bit them in the leg!

So, what was so wrong with the Branch Davidians? They believed the end was upon us. (So do the Mormons.) They held to the Old Testament and restricted their diet. (So do the Jews.) It is alleged they dabbled in polygamy. (Allah anyone?) So what was so bad up at Mount Carmel that the United States government had to mount an attack not seen in Texas since the Alamo? Well, them preacher boys had some guns. And they were holed up in a compound built from shipping crates believing when the end DID come that the government would attack Christians. Uh, if you will note, that building ain’t there no mo’!

The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed! Even Joseph Smith didn’t have to put up with being told that he couldn’t protect himself. Without going into a lengthy discussion of if David was “legally” licensed to bear arms I refer you to this site:


Please remember the First Amendment, número UNO, says, “shall not be infringed!” So why did David and his band of merry men feel that they needed guns? Could it be that good ol’ “religious freedom” thing, and crazy right wing fanatics out there sending them hate mail on almost a daily basis? You think? Did the Davidians mount a militia and attack Waco? Nope. They fed the poor who dropped by and for the food the guests had to put up with David’s preaching.

If you take a hog, flip him over, and examine those little bumps running along his belly, well, those bumps are far more useful than the ATF! I had thought there were perhaps ten or fifteen agents involved in that attack. There were TRUCKS full!! Old David MIGHT have had fully automatic weapons, the ATF DID have them and charged Mount Carmel reminiscent of the siege of the Alamo. One big difference, though. Generalissimo Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna was a seasoned army officer, and the ATF was a band of fools who got their tails blown off by a bunch of preachers on a Sunday morning! Bad hair day for the DIS-United States! When they embarked on this Tom foolery the federal agents invited the media, indeed, giving some of them rides! When they were begging the Branch Davidians to at least let them collect their dead from the battle field their opinion of the press was, shall we say, “Modified?” When I was reviewing file footage taken right after the initial assault I heard “MFer” so many times I thought I was watching a Richard Pryor routine!

So, here we had the ATF licking their wounds, herky-jerky Janet Reno trying to wipe that omelette off her face, and about eighty religious nuts thumbing their noses from the windows of the Best Little Church House in Texas! Bring in the snipers! There was this one guy. He popped the wife/mother up at Ruby Ridge. Chris Kyle he was NOT! Well, this idiot was positioned as a part of not one but three teams set up to shoot at anyone daring to look out a window. Now, bear in mind, this is STILL a church, and there are STILL women and children within said church. Did these people believe David’s prophesy about the end times? Just look out the window . . . carefully, there’s snipers out there!

It took Santa Anna thirteen days to neutralize the Alamo. On day fifty-two the ATF finally devised a plan to end the Battle of Mount Carmel. They were gonna gas ’em! Hitler would be so proud. Oh, I watched the FBI guy going on and on about “low doses” of CS gas, but I have two problems with that. One, CS gas! You know, that stuff you throw under a tank to make the guys inside puke and exit? Yeah, THAT stuff. Low dose? That’s like being a “little bit pregnant.” The occupants inside the compound sent the women and children to a concrete bunker for safety. The ATF pumped “low doses” of CS gas into that bunker for FOUR hours! I can’t stand a smoky BAR for four hours. And, oh yes, the attackers knew where everyone was because they HAD people INSIDE planting bugs so as to hear what was going on. At one point these spies were even at grabbing distance of David himself but we’re told to “Stand down” because Janet had “another” plan!

Bring in the tanks! That’s right, tanks. Pumping these “low doses,” pushing down walls and, oh yes, firing fully automatic fire from helicopters. Inside we had people who had been deprived of sleep, hungry, cold, restricted to about eight ounces of rain water per day, totally believing that this was the apocalyptic battle David had warned them about. We all know how it ended, and we all had to put up with the government spin regurgitated for YEARS after. There was even a congressional hearing, with all the congressmen showing righteous indignation, and do you want to know what came out of those hearings? NADA! Now one arrest of any FBI, ATF, not even ONE missed paycheck, indeed PROMOTIONS!

So why do I hate Waco? I hate Waco because the Sheriff, police, DPS, and all the rest just stood by and WATCHED this happen! Just like they did on May 17th at Twin Peaks! Just like Mount Carmel they stood by until the situation blew completely up, and then over reacted in true Waco fashion. Two bikers got into a fight in a bar. Some preacher-boy’s paperwork wasn’t in order. See the pattern? The ATF could have arrested David Koresh at Walmart. Four cops could have handcuffed two bikers that day in the parking lot. It’s that simple, but then, I’m just a Simple Ol’ Boy from Austin so what do I know? One image is burned into my mind. I saw, yesterday, an ATF agent after the fall of Mount Carmel holding up a toddler’s sleeper. It was the exact same one from Walmart that my grandson, NewBaby wears! I will NEVER forgive Waco!

The Ghosts of Mount Carmel

I spent a huge investment of time last night trying to get a handle on this Twin Peaks thing, and I think I’ve just about got it. Now, to read this, you’re gonna have to open your mind a little bit, liberals don’t worry about it, just read the latest on Bruce Jenner instead. First off, remember that we’re dealing with human beings, the bikers, not the cops. I’m gonna just come out and be up front with you, the cops are out of control. At some point they became militarized and we the people became them the targets. That’s one factor in the equation.

The other factor are motorcyclists. Just like all Italians aren’t in the Mafia, all motorcyclists are not in a gang. We’ve all seen the Hollywood version of Biker Clubs, tooling up and down the freeway with names like “Animal,” running station wagons of nuns off the road and raping everything in sight. Of course you get the image from the loyal opposition on the other side pointing out Christian Bike Clubs and the Patriot Guard. The truth is somewhere in the middle.

The most violent Biker “Gang” is far and above the vermin running around the streets of Baltimore. I dare say “Animal” would make a better Mayor than that city has right now. Most, not all, are Veterans. The fundamental belief of all motorcycle enthusiasts is freedom. The idea to pick up and go on the spur of a moment. The problem is that when you lay a foundation you invariably construct a building, and the idea of biker freedom becomes clouded with rules, imposed to maintain some sort of “order” which is the main reason for getting on a Harley in the first place.

The oxymoron is that people who have basically rejected American Corporate culture would lay out rules and territorial claims, diving right back into the very quagmire they rode away from in the first place. Laying out standards for jackets, and symbols, charging fees for registering clubs, and the more dominant of the clubs ruling with an iron fist over late comers. Time to move farther west, Cowboy Bob!

So let set the stage at Twin Peaks on May 17th. There were two main groups, the Cossacks, and them nasty old Bandidos. Then there were other groups, but they were really like that little prick hiding in the wrinkles of Jabba the Hutt back in the old Star Wars days. So, they all show up at this beer joint for a big meeting, the invited, and the not so invited. And who is out in the parking lot, but Barney and the twelve Fifes, loaded for bear, and hating anything on two wheels. It doesn’t MATTER what was discussed in the bar. It doesn’t MATTER what “territories” we’re “infringed” upon, what matters is a fight broke out between a bunch of bikers drinking beer in a Bresturant. Of course this has never happened before, and the police, taken quite by surprise but the event, we’re consulting their procedures and guidelines right up until the first shot was fired. Of course the snipers opened up and shot everyone who wasn’t smart enough to zig zag as they ran from the fire.

The police then proceeded to arrest everybody, save the priest giving last rights, and giving statements to the press. They DID find that in the manual, under “spin.” They then took all of the arrestees down to the jailhouse where a Justice of the Peace slapped a one million dollar bond on one and all to send a “message” to the populace, which it did. The good people in New York now have confirmation that Texas is overrun with Hell’s Angels, and redneck judges who look like Roy Bean. Oh, good job Sparky!

Fact: A biker fired the first shot. Happens! Happens here in Killeen all the time. Fact: Before this there was a fight. Fact: The cops ate donuts and watched said fight. Aren’t they supposed to serve and protect. There were OTHER people in that bar just eating. Fact: No cops were harmed, not even heat stroke. Now the cops will fall back on this so-called “investigation” they conducted in the preceding months constructing this picture of an enormous criminal empire, run by the Bandidos that controlled the flow of dope across the border. I’m not saying some bikers don’t do dope. Some cops don’t eat donuts. What I am saying is after the event public information was virtually cut off, even autopsy results and privately owned security video. PUTIN is more transparent!

What should the cops have done? Uh, move in and break up the fight? You think? Sometime BEFORE the first shot was fired. Wouldn’t this have been a better headline: EIGHT BIKERS ARRESTED YESTERDAY AFTER SCUFFLE AT TWIN PEAKS. We need to see where those bullets came from, we need to see that video footage, and we need a REAL judge to become involved, because I’ll assure you, every lawyer worth his salt is wearing out horses to book a room in Waco right now.

Waco has always been two bubbles short of plumb. If God were to give the world an enema He’d stick the hose right in the middle of Waco, Texas! I don’t like Waco. I won’t drink Dr Pepper to this day because it came from Waco. If there were a nuclear war and me and a girl from Baylor were the only two people left on the planet the human race would be doomed! You can’t even pray in Waco. A bunch tried, and they burned ’em up. The clubs involved that Sunday did so to be fair to the other regions. Usually they would meet in Dallas or Austin. Maybe should’ve sniffed the ground out at Mount Carmel before ordering that first beer . . . You think?

Just My Luck, God’s a Texan . . .

If I were as wrong about so many things as Mohammed, danged if I wouldn’t have found another job! The man could NOT write, and I mean that literally, or rather, illiterally. Hey, I just made that up. That’s your new word of the day. Anyway, where was I, oh yes, Mohammed. Anyway, he had a pretty good gig running camels across the desert, and married to a rich old lady, but then there was this cave, and an ANGEL! Oh yes, we had an angel. You know, every time someone comes up with some sexually driven nonsense they always blame it on an angel. I personally have never seen an angel, unless you count that girl I picked up at Cody’s one time, but the next day she misplaced her wings, but I’d rather not talk about that right now.

As Mo progressed toward being king of the towel heads he’d go into these rants, usually having something to do with whatever pipe dream he was chasing at the time. Think I’m lying? Check out the “Satanic Verses.” Seems there was these three girls, and, well, they lost THEIR wings, too. When caught in this cluster screw, and it didn’t make any sense to any of the other rag heads he tried to tell ’em, “The Devil made me do it.” Oh, that’s the other big trick. Any time some “prophet” gets caught with his pants down he says the “Devil” tricked him into it. DUDE! If you’re like, a PROPHET, ain’t you supposed to know what the Devil looks like? I personally think he might look like Velma Prigmore back in high school. She led more of us to sin than anyone else I know.

Anyway, Mo ate some poison goat, and about two years later he stopped prophesying, cause he was like, dead! Then the fun really started. If you think Mo was crazy just take a look at act II! There came to pass (got that line from the Book of Mormon) there was these things called “Sayings Of Mohammed,” which loosely translated were things that were so stupid no one mentioned it during his lifetime because there was a distinct possibility of losing your mind, literally! THAT is where we get all these little jewels about what it takes to properly dance around the ol’ Kaaba, beat the devil out of the wife of your choice, AND never marry a chick before the age of five. Then there’s this image thing. Muslims don’t want anybody drawing any pictures of the prophet. Supposedly they hold to the “graven image” thing, and don’t want anyone paying more attention to anything than they do God, but then they pray in the direction of this big ol’ rock in Mecca, and hold onto another rock in Jerusalem like it was property on the Vegas Strip. You see, whenever you have “religion” you always have two sets of rules. The rules for the “equals” and the ones for the “equalizers.” Hey, there’s another new word. I’m a virtual Daniel Webster. You can’t draw Mo, but if you’re a Muzzie you gotta go and walk seven times around a big stone building in Mecca at least once in your life. Ibn Al Arabi did it, and became enameled with some girl called Nizām (see where this always goes folks?)

So, Friday we got the treat of yet another “Draw Mohammed” contest. I couldn’t make it, but I’m going,to place my entry at the end of this article. Seems all,these bikers showed up, though far less than the one hundred thousand expected, those guys were all headed to Waco, and held this art exhibit it right NEXT to a Mosque. Nice touch. I mean if you want to really irritate someone just go urinate on their tomatoes, right? Well, there wasn’t any Jihad, and I don’t know who won the contest, or what what the grand prize was, probably a thirty pack of Bud and an order or baby back ribs, I don’t know. The organizer went into hiding because ISIS wants to cut his head off, and other organizers are planning other venues to enlighten the great unwashed as to what Prophet Mo might have looked like. THIS is what replaced American Idol, folks.

Anyway, I’m going to submit MY entry here, and hope ISIS doesn’t come cut my head off, but if they do, no matter, I’m not using it anyway. I don’t care WHAT Prophet Mo looked like. I’m still squabbling with a black preacher about what COLOR Jesus was. I hold to the words of the Prophet Kinky Friedman: Just my luck, God’s a Texan, one great big blankety blank Anglo Saxon, sitting up there playing with a Quigi Board . . .



From The OK Corral to Twin Peaks

What happened in Waco? Well, the reports are coming in now. Of course, everyone has a spin, but some consistencies are emerging. Apparently SOME bikers had guns. (This is my surprised face.) The cops had guns too. (Another surprised face.) SOMEone got into an argument over a motorcycle. (Imagine that!) Bikers are allergic to bullets and cops are allergic to bikers. See where this is going, folks?

One thing that seems to be rock solid is some guy called “Chain” got shot dead between the eyes by a Bandido. That was . . . special. One witness claimed a majority of bikers went immediately spread eagle on the ground whereupon the police began picking them off one by one as the juke box played “Nearer My God To Thee.” Scratch and sniff this, folks, tell me what you smell.

Let’s do some numbers. Reportedly up to seventy Cossacks riding, uninvited to Twin Peaks, followed by about one hundred Bandidos. That’s a lot of carbon monoxide, folks. There was a little debate about parking. You think? The police were THERE! I’m going to revert to one of my earlier articles. At least one hundred and seventy bikers, different philosophies, meeting in a “breastraunt” drinking beer. Let me think, could this be VOLATILE? After “Chain” bit the dust a melee followed, and we may never know the whole truth of it, but apparently no police got hurt.

Turf wars are not uncommon for bikers. They live in a violent world where safe ground is highly prized. While most are law abiding if you believe they all are have I got a bridge for YOU! Still, you can’t judge all by the actions of a few. I will agree with Chris X. To have a situation such as the one in Waco explode and having no police is unthinkable. As brutal as it sounds the gunfight was a natural outgrowth of a lifestyle, both biker and police. This is NOT an open carry issue! People have a right to defend themselves, even bikers and yes, policemen.

As we weigh the evidence I am drawn back to the liberal rants about the second amendment, and all the Wild, Wild West, and yes, that moldy old OK Corral. Did you know there was a coroner’s inquest after that incident? Did you know the Earps and Doc Holliday sat in jail waiting for the results of that inquest? Did you know the Clanton’s story was alarmingly similar to what we hear coming out of Waco? Jus Sayin.