Jimmy Gabacho

Peyote doesn’t kick in like other psychedelics: acid and mushrooms will turn you into a giggling fool within an hour after you eat them. Peyote, however, has a delayed effect: invariably you figure that the stuff isn’t working and that you got ripped off, and then it hits you like a thousand pound shit-hammer. Wammo! Suddenly, the walls are breathing and you’re in the middle of a fire-storm of lights and sound so intense that you’re convinced that you’re receiving the secret knowledge of the universe. By the time we got our tickets for Cirque de Soleil I was zonked; it really hit me right after we got our seats. Then, the place filled up with clowns. I had weird thoughts; you can never trust a clown!

TomT

Displaced Aggression League Report — Playoff Week 1

Round 1 saw our little corner of the world turned topsy-turvy, as the three top-seeded teams and a former champion/perennial spoiler were pitilessly eradicated by an assortment of malicious Cinderellas.  In the end, grief counselors had to be bused in, and our League’s brightest and best were reduced to pointing out exactly where on the doll their opponents had touched them.

Jimmy Gabacho

It happens at least once a week; I will get a telephone call from my aging father. He’s in his seventies now and is starting to slow down a bit. But he is still as feisty as ever. Even before I answer the phone, I have a pretty good idea of how it will go: the voice on the line will be garbled, semi coherent, half babbling, half raving about some astounding finish to a football, basketball, or baseball game (which of course I haven’t watched). Or it will be a rant about the recent comments by some idiot politician, or it will want to know the best way to change a light bulb in the house.

B2L2