"Stumble stumble crawl crawl stagger hop run walk stagger stagger fall...", Yellow Beard's wisdom.
So nothing worth fighting for will ever be easy. What doesn't kill you will only make you stronger. If you don't know it half drunk and hung over then you just don't know it.
Any of these can easily inspire even the most defeatist amongst us, and motivate all to join in chanting toga toga toga.
Let us look at the bright side of our situation for a moment and think that it can always get worse or rather I can only go up from here.
So all we needed was a plan, funding, and enough liquid courage to embalm Jaba.
Recruiting efforts were kept mainly away from campus and places of employ as this would lead the powers that be straight back to us. A simple choice had to be made. What caliber of comrades were we looking for and to what lengths would we go to ensure that they were loyal on our current budget? We needed individuals with different sets of expertise, backgrounds, and anonymity.
We had the planning and real life experience that the Cowboy possessed.
We had my drive and, for lack of a better word, vision.
All we needed was someone with veterinary skills, another with good connections to the animal kingdom and or zoological society, a small group of willing soldiers, and finally some pissed off ex-green peace member willing to fund this endeavour.
and what better place to find such individuals than a rancher's birthday party.
We arrived at what I like to call the Yosemite Sam Convention about mid afternoon with a casket size cooler full of ambrosia and our agenda. The conversation started innocently enough when asked about how those around the poker table felt about wrongful imprisonment. Since a large portion of the table had had some sort of brush with the law, the talk seemed rather one sided and even turned into a stroll down memory lane for a few of us. My only real experience of the US system of law was the knowledge of how much the fine for pointing the wrong finger at a law enforcement officer was. ($97.50 if you must know).
Again I was out of my element and only my passion for the eventual freedom of the pink gave me the courage to go further with what I was ultimately proposing.
"Are you Freagin' serious?!?", says the mostly anesthetized birthday boy.
"Yes I am", was my simple answer.
After the roar of the table's laughter had quieted, I went on to describe what I was proposing. I found myself hoping that most of them would be too far gone to remember the talk if they were not interested. The knowledge that the men willing to help would only remember that they had said yes and would follow through regardless of what sobriety would have them do otherwise was a comforting thought.
How slowly the picture comes into focus as if needing to be warmed up by the morning sun. Fuzzy memories and segments of conversations seem to take just as long to assemble.
Had I really gotten a following? Did some of them say yes?
Where were my boots and why were my jeans in the pool?
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
You Did What?!?!
Deja Vu... Again?
Getting into a good routine can be a little nerve racking because anything that can go wrong will when you are least expecting it so comfort should be a great indicator that things are gonna really suck...
So as long as you feel like hell is at your heals you must be doing a great job.
Still not convinced?
Let us take a closer look at where we are... How many things would need to happen for things to go completely side ways for you? With the aforementioned logic, if only one piece needs to not fit to ruin the puzzle then you are where you need to be.
No pressure.
"Dude you gotta get here quick!", utters the voice on the other line.
My first thought is the fugitive walking on the side of an interstate somewhere.
I don't ask why.
I just drive faster and hope that Texas State Troopers take extended lunch breaks.
After what seems like an eternity I make it to the gate and to my surprise no one is waiting to open it and instead the lock and chain are draped over the side of the fence as a sign to come in. So I hop out and open the gate, drive through, and jump back out to close it with a quickness of a NASCAR pit stop. Of course it only seemed that way to me and must have looked like some sort of modern dance minus the rhythm to any one watching.
I get to the field by the watering hole and my friend is holding a beer in one hand and a duck call in the other almost in tears from laughter. Apparently he had more free time than most.
He signals for me to stay quiet and he blows the duck call. Pinky bolts out of a group of bushes and commences to do this crazy mating dance chasing my friend to a deer blind that looks like a tripod on steroids and starts to dance around a feeder just a couple of yards away. After Pinky finishes his dance and goes back to the spot where we had been taking turns dumping brine shrimp for him, I ask my friend if that was why he called. To which he answers with the affirmative.
Several things were obvious. The bird needed a companion, my friend was having fun, I needed to get a duck call and a beer, and a decission must made.
Pinky needs his whole flock and we were going to get it.
Getting into a good routine can be a little nerve racking because anything that can go wrong will when you are least expecting it so comfort should be a great indicator that things are gonna really suck...
So as long as you feel like hell is at your heals you must be doing a great job.
Still not convinced?
Let us take a closer look at where we are... How many things would need to happen for things to go completely side ways for you? With the aforementioned logic, if only one piece needs to not fit to ruin the puzzle then you are where you need to be.
No pressure.
"Dude you gotta get here quick!", utters the voice on the other line.
My first thought is the fugitive walking on the side of an interstate somewhere.
I don't ask why.
I just drive faster and hope that Texas State Troopers take extended lunch breaks.
After what seems like an eternity I make it to the gate and to my surprise no one is waiting to open it and instead the lock and chain are draped over the side of the fence as a sign to come in. So I hop out and open the gate, drive through, and jump back out to close it with a quickness of a NASCAR pit stop. Of course it only seemed that way to me and must have looked like some sort of modern dance minus the rhythm to any one watching.
I get to the field by the watering hole and my friend is holding a beer in one hand and a duck call in the other almost in tears from laughter. Apparently he had more free time than most.
He signals for me to stay quiet and he blows the duck call. Pinky bolts out of a group of bushes and commences to do this crazy mating dance chasing my friend to a deer blind that looks like a tripod on steroids and starts to dance around a feeder just a couple of yards away. After Pinky finishes his dance and goes back to the spot where we had been taking turns dumping brine shrimp for him, I ask my friend if that was why he called. To which he answers with the affirmative.
Several things were obvious. The bird needed a companion, my friend was having fun, I needed to get a duck call and a beer, and a decission must made.
Pinky needs his whole flock and we were going to get it.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
You Can't Have Just One
This was going to be a tough sell. Even by Nesto standards this was truly way out of left field. I mean I had done some silly stuff before that set the bar pretty high for any of those around me for any length of time to be surprised by the unexpected.
My sisters could sit through a night of improve and comedy and start yawning. My fault? Maybe.
My friend the Cowboy had been used to my insanity and had stuck by me for almost eight years at that point. He was the older brother I never had and would have probably kicked my ass had we really been related. This was gonna be one of the countless number of times I had and would ask him for help or an opinion. In this case I would get both. So I called him when I was already half way there.
Me, "It's warm out and not even the closest neighbors can see the watering hole...
Look I'll figure out a feeding schedule and everything. All I need is some time to figure this out." I must have sounded like a kid trying to convince his dad that a hamster would make a great pet (which incidentally I had done about nine years earlier with my dad about 7 weeks before it died when I was entertained by how much it would eat if I didn't limit its food intake)
"You have really lost your mind. Do you know what they'll do to us if this bird is tracked here?", uttered the Very unimpressed brother. "Do you even know what this thing eats?"
"Of course. The Caribbean species eats mainly brine shrimp which I can find a supply of and flies which the cattle will provide.", says the true genius.
"How the hell do you know that?", asked the still-not-buying-the plan-rancher-dude.
"I read the sign in front of the freagin' cage at the zoo... Look are you gonna help or not? Pinky needs a place to crash.", almost-smelling-victory-man
"Just for a while!", him.
I made it to the ranch in record time and met my friend at the gate to the Overby place. He freaked just a little when he saw the passenger and opened the gate for us to drive in.
Pinky looked pleased to be off of the highway where I had been trying to keep him out of sight under a sarape I had picked up in TJ. After heading East on the second sendero we turned South towards the watering hole. Most of the cattle were on the opposite side of the water and did not even seem to notice we were there.
Kind of a strange sanctuary for something so far from its home, but he seemed happy to be in the water, and got very excited when I started emptying the packages of brine shrimp I had gotten at the Wally World at 2 AM. No one even batted an eye when I bought the entire stock of the petite freeze-dried crustaceans.
Had I really lost my mind or was this just another seemingly random act of curiosity mixed with insanity? Like when I had worn the jockstrap with an over-sized cup under my work clothes at the office just to see who would be looking at the bulge.
Total count for that experiment: twelve women and three men.
Soon all will become clear and the beer will wear off...
So what was my plan?
Cooler emptied...
My sisters could sit through a night of improve and comedy and start yawning. My fault? Maybe.
My friend the Cowboy had been used to my insanity and had stuck by me for almost eight years at that point. He was the older brother I never had and would have probably kicked my ass had we really been related. This was gonna be one of the countless number of times I had and would ask him for help or an opinion. In this case I would get both. So I called him when I was already half way there.
Me, "It's warm out and not even the closest neighbors can see the watering hole...
Look I'll figure out a feeding schedule and everything. All I need is some time to figure this out." I must have sounded like a kid trying to convince his dad that a hamster would make a great pet (which incidentally I had done about nine years earlier with my dad about 7 weeks before it died when I was entertained by how much it would eat if I didn't limit its food intake)
"You have really lost your mind. Do you know what they'll do to us if this bird is tracked here?", uttered the Very unimpressed brother. "Do you even know what this thing eats?"
"Of course. The Caribbean species eats mainly brine shrimp which I can find a supply of and flies which the cattle will provide.", says the true genius.
"How the hell do you know that?", asked the still-not-buying-the plan-rancher-dude.
"I read the sign in front of the freagin' cage at the zoo... Look are you gonna help or not? Pinky needs a place to crash.", almost-smelling-victory-man
"Just for a while!", him.
I made it to the ranch in record time and met my friend at the gate to the Overby place. He freaked just a little when he saw the passenger and opened the gate for us to drive in.
Pinky looked pleased to be off of the highway where I had been trying to keep him out of sight under a sarape I had picked up in TJ. After heading East on the second sendero we turned South towards the watering hole. Most of the cattle were on the opposite side of the water and did not even seem to notice we were there.
Kind of a strange sanctuary for something so far from its home, but he seemed happy to be in the water, and got very excited when I started emptying the packages of brine shrimp I had gotten at the Wally World at 2 AM. No one even batted an eye when I bought the entire stock of the petite freeze-dried crustaceans.
Had I really lost my mind or was this just another seemingly random act of curiosity mixed with insanity? Like when I had worn the jockstrap with an over-sized cup under my work clothes at the office just to see who would be looking at the bulge.
Total count for that experiment: twelve women and three men.
Soon all will become clear and the beer will wear off...
So what was my plan?
Cooler emptied...
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Group Unique
Not always original but consistently odd...
I guess that would have been a good way of spinning it. Something just wasn't quite wrong?
Not off beat just testing the tempo would be a good way to describe the journey.
A contradiction in the right direction? Perhaps...
So where are we all meeting up tonight? A question always asked as more of a formality with the old crew... The Nameless Saloon or rather the Shameless Saloon at times.
The same old thing. Just a bunch of us over-indulging and laughing till we went hoarse...
Reason for celebrating: Tuesday or was it the passing of Monday?
On the way there I made the usual rounds.
stop by the ATM and if need be the Changestar machine (also known as the hey look at me I'm broke, and this really loud clanging you hear is me getting beer money machine).
Call the nearest brothers and see if they wanted to ride with. Not so much did they feel like going but more the hey I am driving by your house it is Tuesday and I will take you there in boxers if you are not ready to go.
Tonight seemed different. My mind again drifted to the thoughts of the pink and imprisoned.
What had they done that was so wrong?
I couldn't think of a good answer so I did the next best thing. Called up the guys and told them I had to run an errand on the way there and to make sure and save my usual bar stool.
The parking lots were clear. Only the entrance lights were on and the miniature train had long since been put away for the evening after schlepping a bunch of kids around huge circles around the Zoo and several other land marks.
I hope he got my text. I was pulling a favor and little did I know our paths would cross again and again.
We grew up going to the same school and he had always been the kid bringing different critters to class for show and tell. Now he was one of the overnight custodial engineers at the zoo. He met me by the turnstiles and told me that if we got busted I would owe him allot more than a case of beer.
He held open the Wheel-chair access gate just wide enough for me to get my narrow nalgs in the park.
I made a bee line for the chain link enclosure and climbed like a deranged spider monkey till I reached the top and slid down the other side. The noise was intense and I was surprised nobody ran to see what was going on. The honking and clicking was intense and it took a bit to subside... I grabbed the nearest adult I could find and held him till he calmed down a bit and threw my jacket over him. The climb back up was insane. Between his kicking and my attempts at not falling we somehow made it.
I ran for my truck with my pink refugee in tow. His honking and flapping subsided when he somehow figured out that I was there to help. The keepers would never notice if just one was missing.
Mission Accomplished!!!
I started the truck and looked at my now serene passenger and was less than a mile away when the thought hit me.
What the Hell do I do now?
I guess that would have been a good way of spinning it. Something just wasn't quite wrong?
Not off beat just testing the tempo would be a good way to describe the journey.
A contradiction in the right direction? Perhaps...
So where are we all meeting up tonight? A question always asked as more of a formality with the old crew... The Nameless Saloon or rather the Shameless Saloon at times.
The same old thing. Just a bunch of us over-indulging and laughing till we went hoarse...
Reason for celebrating: Tuesday or was it the passing of Monday?
On the way there I made the usual rounds.
stop by the ATM and if need be the Changestar machine (also known as the hey look at me I'm broke, and this really loud clanging you hear is me getting beer money machine).
Call the nearest brothers and see if they wanted to ride with. Not so much did they feel like going but more the hey I am driving by your house it is Tuesday and I will take you there in boxers if you are not ready to go.
Tonight seemed different. My mind again drifted to the thoughts of the pink and imprisoned.
What had they done that was so wrong?
I couldn't think of a good answer so I did the next best thing. Called up the guys and told them I had to run an errand on the way there and to make sure and save my usual bar stool.
The parking lots were clear. Only the entrance lights were on and the miniature train had long since been put away for the evening after schlepping a bunch of kids around huge circles around the Zoo and several other land marks.
I hope he got my text. I was pulling a favor and little did I know our paths would cross again and again.
We grew up going to the same school and he had always been the kid bringing different critters to class for show and tell. Now he was one of the overnight custodial engineers at the zoo. He met me by the turnstiles and told me that if we got busted I would owe him allot more than a case of beer.
He held open the Wheel-chair access gate just wide enough for me to get my narrow nalgs in the park.
I made a bee line for the chain link enclosure and climbed like a deranged spider monkey till I reached the top and slid down the other side. The noise was intense and I was surprised nobody ran to see what was going on. The honking and clicking was intense and it took a bit to subside... I grabbed the nearest adult I could find and held him till he calmed down a bit and threw my jacket over him. The climb back up was insane. Between his kicking and my attempts at not falling we somehow made it.
I ran for my truck with my pink refugee in tow. His honking and flapping subsided when he somehow figured out that I was there to help. The keepers would never notice if just one was missing.
Mission Accomplished!!!
I started the truck and looked at my now serene passenger and was less than a mile away when the thought hit me.
What the Hell do I do now?
Monday, November 22, 2010
Don't I Get a Phone Call?
It seemed like a great idea... Hell, I even convinced myself...
All I would need is three maybe four hours of sleep & I would be great! Hail the conquering hero!!!!
Didn't have to clock into work till 10:00 AM. The coastal bend area was just 1.5 hours away. That equated to three hours of driving time which left me with six of indulgences taking into account the 3-4 hours of sleep. I could be back with time to spare.
Father time you are soooo my B!!!
I hadn't forgotten a thing and much like formula one I had just enough fuel to complete the mission. This was gonna be perfect! all the necessities were packed.
Cowboy hat with turkey feather
Case of Beer
Bag of chips
Extra Jeans
Boxers
Socks
Cooler
Fishing rod (just for show)
Tackle box (who are we kidding? What crazy fish can be eaten when it has lived in a watering hole for cattle / tank?)
Smile
I even remembered the tooth brush and towel... Even though a Jedi needs not these things.
Within all the excitement I could only think of one thing. My pink feathered friends. Just a shade away from the crane and the cardinal. Those poor misunderstood bastards.
They did not chose this life. They did not chose this place.
Yet, they sparkle like no other. Beauty and strength in numbers and like a huge fuchsia eclipse when they all take to flight.
Was I out of my mind or had I just found the freagin' Rabbit Hole?
All I would need is three maybe four hours of sleep & I would be great! Hail the conquering hero!!!!
Didn't have to clock into work till 10:00 AM. The coastal bend area was just 1.5 hours away. That equated to three hours of driving time which left me with six of indulgences taking into account the 3-4 hours of sleep. I could be back with time to spare.
Father time you are soooo my B!!!
I hadn't forgotten a thing and much like formula one I had just enough fuel to complete the mission. This was gonna be perfect! all the necessities were packed.
Cowboy hat with turkey feather
Case of Beer
Bag of chips
Extra Jeans
Boxers
Socks
Cooler
Fishing rod (just for show)
Tackle box (who are we kidding? What crazy fish can be eaten when it has lived in a watering hole for cattle / tank?)
Smile
I even remembered the tooth brush and towel... Even though a Jedi needs not these things.
Within all the excitement I could only think of one thing. My pink feathered friends. Just a shade away from the crane and the cardinal. Those poor misunderstood bastards.
They did not chose this life. They did not chose this place.
Yet, they sparkle like no other. Beauty and strength in numbers and like a huge fuchsia eclipse when they all take to flight.
Was I out of my mind or had I just found the freagin' Rabbit Hole?
There Has to be a better Way
Nap before a class on a bench in the breeze way good.
Nap during class on a bench in the breeze way not good.
Not sure what the reason for celebration had been we find our hero recharging his hero strength and heavy head on a bench in the breeze way...
"Good morning Sir!!!:) and how are we today?", Dr. Something-or-other-class on Wednesday AM-ish says with a smile that cries out I wish I were you again.
Just running a little late this morning.
"No worries." , he says with a grin.
No worries? Really?????
He must not have had the same dream I had.
Not the one with the Ghandi playing monopoly with Sally Strothers , but the one where hundreds were trapped and shipped far from home. No charges were levied, no Miranda Rights were read. Captured and crying out for justice on some diesel excuse for a ship heading to their new home. Each looked at the other and could only come up with one answer to their collective dilemma. Because we are pink and a little different a dollar can be made with our exposition.
Is there a chance of parole?
Time off for good behavior?
So many questions felt like too much...
Time for a snack.
Nap during class on a bench in the breeze way not good.
Not sure what the reason for celebration had been we find our hero recharging his hero strength and heavy head on a bench in the breeze way...
"Good morning Sir!!!:) and how are we today?", Dr. Something-or-other-class on Wednesday AM-ish says with a smile that cries out I wish I were you again.
Just running a little late this morning.
"No worries." , he says with a grin.
No worries? Really?????
He must not have had the same dream I had.
Not the one with the Ghandi playing monopoly with Sally Strothers , but the one where hundreds were trapped and shipped far from home. No charges were levied, no Miranda Rights were read. Captured and crying out for justice on some diesel excuse for a ship heading to their new home. Each looked at the other and could only come up with one answer to their collective dilemma. Because we are pink and a little different a dollar can be made with our exposition.
Is there a chance of parole?
Time off for good behavior?
So many questions felt like too much...
Time for a snack.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
The Egg
So there i was just minding my own business... sharing a few laughs and even more drinks.
Have you ever noticed how just a passing thought can sometimes stick with you? how something so seemingly silly and non-fabulous could catch your eye.
This was one of those things.
If I had to guess it must have been about twenty years ago. The party was winding down and The usual suspects were helping me clean up and run off the last of the nameless friends I had somehow invited to yet another successful Carne Asada. I think we only ran out of beverages once during the evening and would probably have to find a place to hide the railroad crossing arm one of the guys had decided to gift me. It wasn't the most useful gift but definitely original.
During the night, as any other time when the whole crew got together, the beer soaked conversation would always drift to some philosophical topic in an attempt to impress our very impressionable dates. Most times we could easily make these talks go smoothly setting one another in the best of lights as true wing men would do. Not this time.
The question: So with that in mind, how are you gonna change the world Nesto?
The answer: Silence. Complete and total silence. the kind of quiet one gets when telling a blind date about a stamp collection, or a would-be employer about a third nipple you are wanting to get pierced...
The rest of the night went much more smoothly and pretty uneventful. Ending with the dark stagger down the hall past the kitchen and living room almost knocking over the grandfather clock (make a note we'll talk about that freegin traitorous clock later), and finally into bed by way of a deep tooth brushing and half dead shower.
The last thought in my head that evening was wow how will I change this place...
Lights out
Have you ever noticed how just a passing thought can sometimes stick with you? how something so seemingly silly and non-fabulous could catch your eye.
This was one of those things.
If I had to guess it must have been about twenty years ago. The party was winding down and The usual suspects were helping me clean up and run off the last of the nameless friends I had somehow invited to yet another successful Carne Asada. I think we only ran out of beverages once during the evening and would probably have to find a place to hide the railroad crossing arm one of the guys had decided to gift me. It wasn't the most useful gift but definitely original.
During the night, as any other time when the whole crew got together, the beer soaked conversation would always drift to some philosophical topic in an attempt to impress our very impressionable dates. Most times we could easily make these talks go smoothly setting one another in the best of lights as true wing men would do. Not this time.
The question: So with that in mind, how are you gonna change the world Nesto?
The answer: Silence. Complete and total silence. the kind of quiet one gets when telling a blind date about a stamp collection, or a would-be employer about a third nipple you are wanting to get pierced...
The rest of the night went much more smoothly and pretty uneventful. Ending with the dark stagger down the hall past the kitchen and living room almost knocking over the grandfather clock (make a note we'll talk about that freegin traitorous clock later), and finally into bed by way of a deep tooth brushing and half dead shower.
The last thought in my head that evening was wow how will I change this place...
Lights out
Free the Flamingos
These days we are all guilty of some sort of waste, hate, abuse, prejudice, or other harmless harmful act, and not all of our choices seem to really make sense. I was well aware of this and accepted it till I learned other wise.
Make a statement.
Make a Difference.
Just Do Something.
Who would of thought a series of seemingly unrelated events would have brought me here.
None of the others from the Flamingo Freedom Front had arrived yet, So I was alone standing there wearing the agreed upon pink spandex body suit ready to break into the zoo. It was a dark night and the motion sensors our inside man had disabled would make this the easiest release ever.
Maybe I should take a step back to the not so distant past before I go any further...
My name is Ernesto and my story is weird to say the least. The names have been changed to protect both the innocent as well as the guilty both real and imagined.
Let's have a couple of beers and let me know if you want me to tell you this tale.
Make a statement.
Make a Difference.
Just Do Something.
Who would of thought a series of seemingly unrelated events would have brought me here.
None of the others from the Flamingo Freedom Front had arrived yet, So I was alone standing there wearing the agreed upon pink spandex body suit ready to break into the zoo. It was a dark night and the motion sensors our inside man had disabled would make this the easiest release ever.
Maybe I should take a step back to the not so distant past before I go any further...
My name is Ernesto and my story is weird to say the least. The names have been changed to protect both the innocent as well as the guilty both real and imagined.
Let's have a couple of beers and let me know if you want me to tell you this tale.
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