It... is... Alive!

Guokas is getting the creeping feeling that I'm over-posting on the Zuckerberg's Kingdom. He's gathering too much data on my thoughts, dreams and my aging kitty-cat. So then. I'm going to revive my blogspot, where our Google Overlords can climb all up in my business, sell my nonsense to the NSA and find the free cash to build the Googly Flying Car Highway.

Thanks For Nothing.

Thanks Internets. Thanks for nothing, you POS swill-trough. A big wad of bile, greasy bile, that's what passes for civilized thought in 2014. The pen is no longer mightier than the sword. We now live in a Moronacracy. The idiots have won, they've flooded modern life with an onslaught of venomous grammatically-incorrect vomit. So what, right? Who cares. No one is going to read this because nothing written matters anymore. Reading is for ''loosers''. The Comment Section and the democracy of telecommunications has destroyed conversation, it's ruined the exchange of ideas, and it has obliterated any chance at potential intellectual discussion. Bloodthirsty hoardes of sons of Jerky Boys dominate Media. Heretofore unrivalled Stupidity and viciousness now rule modern communication. Intelligent thought is washed away with the Niagara-Falls-volume of assholes patrolling the Internet. Journalism is dead. Newspapers are dead. Never could I imagine that newspapers would go the way of vinyl records.  The Rule of the Troll has drowned out all thoughtful interaction. Kudos to America on the back-slide to Irrelevencnicity, the 'Merca that was 'too busy' to read a newspaper. App $10 to a cop who shoots the colored to teach those food-stampers a lesson. The 21st century only cares about celebrity nipple-slips, and ''if it bleeds it leads'' i.e. whore and gore infotainment. And weather. Weather dominates local TV news. Unless you are a fucking farmer, does it really matter what the seasons are doing? 12 minutes of your local chitter-chatter broadcast is devoted to SHIT THAT DOES NOT MATTER. Do you need to know tempratures throughout the day? This up-to-the.minute grand importance killed the daily. Newspapers are long gone, replaced with market-targeted happy-happy local TeeVee douche-casts that are designed to scare you about your neighbors, ("can't believe this happened on my street''). And roll tape!! Mmmm-go!!! Car-crash live on the scene coverage annnnd...mugshots of scary-types followed by rape-murder-in-a-different-state-burgers-are-good/bad-for-you-tisk-tisk-tisk, a pep you up feel-gooder with an animal or a disabled kid doing something cute and funny. What Beyonce and Miley wore to da club is required knowledge.This is what technological innovation has wrought. A society of fat, lazy, racist, celebrity-worshipping, ignorant Creature-From-the-Black-Lagooners that breeds basement porn-Trolls, ta-da! The tsunami of ones and zero-based Idiot-puke has washed away anything thoughtful. Even if one cares, how frustrating is it to wade through the Slop? So what. All that matters is the American Way. The Way? The way Wallymart can separate your money from your wallet. Because you need more shit, yes? Shakespeare and Hemmingway trying to get published in the 21st century? Yeah right, they would not get a passing chance at an audience because even thinking people have waved off the labor of shit-shifting. Maybe if they flashed a wang-pic. Unless you're the equivalent to a truffle-hunting piglet, you've given up trying to sort the advertising from the gory chaff to find something-anything worth knowing. Here lies Grammar, Decency and  Intellect, they had a good run. It's unfortunate, there is no place to read their obituaries. Smartphones? Smartphones, now that's funny. Oh, 'BTW', that's by the way for you book learnin' folk, your American government is pondering whether to let your ISPs slow down your bandwidth unless you pony up for premium tier service. So, even your bucket of swill will be served in lukewarm gloppy-style. Net Neutrality? Let's call it the Bucket of Two-day Old Squid Challenge. Let's all snuggle around the Utube-Netflixster Box and watch hour after hour of hilarious Squid Bucket vid-pops. Welcome to the Lowest Common Denominator. Like me on Facebook.

Liberty AND Justice. ACK!

 .

You step out for a breath fresh air and a life for a year or so AND what the???

Just what in the bloody hell happened to the United States of America? We've turned into the whiny poopy pants people of planet Earth. And stinky rottenly corrupt to the core. Not stinky rotten GOOD like your cheese ends 'n' bits cheese box in the icebox or Norge. But the pants worn and discarded because even Mr. Really Should Be On His Meds Homeless Dude couldn't stand it stinky rotten.Why and how does is happen in the Land of amber waves of grain? In what seems like an ever-expanding situation, that fragrant guy, maybe your uncle or cousin who might be a veteran, could use a place to live and medical treatment. Robin Williams, the San Francisco liberal hated by God-fearing Republicans, brazenly used his celebrity to help the homeless. That guy muttering to himself pushing a mountanous shopping cart, blurts out he wants your change. ''This is why we don't go downtown, Marge. These lazy bums won't get jobs...'' Remember Comic Relief? In the 1980s and 90s, Willams along with Whoopi Goldberg and Billy Crystal raised millions and millions of dollars to aid charities struggling to help a burgeoning swarm of koo koo lazy, scary Godless who lacked bootstraps. (Creative license with descriptions that could be heard whenever two ''conservatives'' think they can't be overheard. Eh, Mitt Romney?) Instanly after Williams' death, an ultra-conservative group posted on their website a vile suggestion that demonic powers controlled the comedian- to sell DVDs. A boxed set of their DVDs. Where did the slovenly hordes that Robin Williams, (who's suicide was mocked by Republican heroes Rush Limbaugh and Laura Ingram), tried to assist come from so fast? Republican Holy Ghost Ronald Reagan drove them into the street with a Morning In America grin on his mug. From the Administration that brought you the Welfare Queen delusional governing philosophy, Reagan systematically defunded institutions that helped the mentally ill. Instead of fixing an albeit shaky treatment system, beds for those in need started vanishing through the murky idea that churches are better equipped to care for the depressed or scitzophenic or have PTSD. And the states know how to handle their constituents better than Big Bad Government. Sounds suspiciously like the Obamacare lawsuit script, eh? You want Healthcare, find yourself a charity. Obfuscate, distract with a, take your pick-gun/God/gay, or do a Proud to be an American, rub some dirt on it and you'll be fine. Reagan, kicked the ball downhill with the taxcut and some free-market-magic will raise all boats. With free. market magic middle class jobs permanently moved overseas, how much longer can blaming 911, no wait, Disease-ridden ebola South American child ''looking'' terrorists swarming our border confuse Red State Merca? While a Republican trial-ballooned the lunacy that Democrats have begun a ''war on whites'',  just last week, to drive Paranoid Dixie to the ballot box. Glodwater and Nixon lifted their lids, sat up and said ''Whoa.''. The party of No Government or Else is in a desperate race against demographic irrelevance. Cutting food stamps and school lunches, jammed emergency rooms with underwater families, chronic under-employment cannot be prayed away In perpetuity. While the ALS folks surely had good intentions, morning Local TV news-lite anchors pouring ice-water on their heads, laughing hysterically about what was it? A charity, right? Haha! Next news cycle- poof. Poll those with wet heads about universal healthcare for all and taxpayer-funded research. So, Uncle Sam is going to TAX you $8 a month for medical research ($96/year, an ALS water bucket pledge is $100), what do you think people would say? Harumph Harumph! Government overreach! Taxes taxes taxes when will it stop... But when you get to show off, puff up and prove how good and merciful you are on camera? $100 is nothing blah blah I'm sooo generous. I call B.S..  The current free-market system wherein drug companies decides what pill get popped for maximum profits is ethical? Moral or amoral or immoral? Is there a MIDDLE GROUND (apologies for cursing the 'MD'-phrase) where scientists (oops, the 'S' word) discover what is promising. Let Madison Avenue do their snake-oil happy-people-doing-happy-slow-motion stuff to make Big DrugCo shareholders happy. Our troops are exhausted so another war won't cover their attempts to dismantle democracy for a heavily-armed corporate theocracy. What (911) to do all that (911) Homeland Security gear and ammo? (911.) Bring the Middle East to the Mid-West. A little racial division and some over-zealous cops in cockroach-lookin' riot gets uppity _____ (insert scary brown teenagers from country of choice. ''Sure, Bob. Stock footage is fine. Fox Newsies think they all look alike.'') into the pepper-haze, and 3G's America is back in the Neo-confederate's corner. St. Louis is a psycotic's wet dream on the Mason jar Dixie-cup Line. Thirty years ago' you couldn't sell this script to the Transformers screenplay writing teams. ''Can we get a Google ad-scroll on a Facebook product placement zeppelin-drone?" Meanwhile, on late night TV while watching your how-to-rip-off-a-sucker house-flipper marathon, Medicare and Medicaid Mobsters are loading on the charm in commercials to tivo-free America. Right out in the open, in the haze of healthcare lawsuit-ery, con artists are blowing up the durable medical equipment market.Step right up, barked the Medi-Carnie! With one phone call, we'lldo it all fer you. Delivered to your door is your new scooter/back-neck-elbow-knee brace. At little or no cost to you!!! If it's on The List, its yours! (Deep below NORAD is where the List Keeper's Lair resides. AKA the Deciders Den of DME.) Wht if I need something that's not on List? Too bad! No wheelchair for you! Next!  Is the stench of poop in the air? But wait there's more! If you Jitterbug speed diall call in the next TEN minutes, you'll get this surprise bonus:  By the time these Freemarketeers bankrupt Medicare, the HatchetMen of the Grand Ol' Party will be screeching 'the Federal Democrat Party trusted Big Government and we know B. Hussein Obama cannaught be trusted with your taxcut money!'. It's not a good idea to encourage civil unrest. Would the FREEPERS dare? It's not a conspiracy if you are complicitly a country stocked with a numbed and dumber population.

Editor's Note: Due to the Author's ''sebattical'', grammar, puctuation, spelling,, logic and common sense, and umm decorum are covered with dust, broken glass and cat fur. Lower your expectations to a 'gentleman's C' an it'll read like that caterpiller-bug book.

Author's Note: The editor can be a jackass.

Editor's Note: I know you are but am I? 

Staff Note: You're both jackasses. And we wish we knew who is Statue of Liberty Dude . His   bravery was  photographed during Obama II campaign. We're pretty sure the proper authorities know.

Nipple-gate: An American Obsession

Again. America's true Christian Footloose Taliban nature rears its self-righteous, ugly, puritanical head in outrage over a body part. Dateline: 2013 Oscar ceremony. News flash: Breasts have nipples! And nipples are sluts! Nipples are the seedy underbelly! Wait, what?

Hathaway Nipple-gate is a fine addition to America's interesting obsession. An actor wears a dress to a function, suddenly a virtual Salem witch trial springs forth. [Fun facts: Barbie has no nipples so she is acceptable. Also, the Male nipple has no power for some reason.] Farrah Fawcett's adorned the walls of millions, including this author's. Janet Jackson's single nipple got the government involved. [Something all nipples strive toward.] NBC's 'Friends' banked on 'em perking up on Thursday nights. The only thing anyone remembers about a Terminator flick is three nipples. Spring Break is built around damp t-shirts revealing nubile nippledom, an economic boon. Countless hours of city, county and state governmental deliberation surround the boob-topper taboo. Testify. In the 21st century there are deeply paranoid places where alcohol and exposed nipples cannot be in the same room for fear of uncontrolled mayhem. There is vast power in the amazing female areola, the heat generated in their presence may outweigh all of Appalachia's coal reserves. Perhaps it's time we tap the nipple's power, wind and solar pale in comparison. Nipple. Nipple. Nipple. Wow. See? 

This American loves the darn things, let's set them free once and for all.

No nipples were harmed during the production of this article. Also, Marvin the Melancholic Martian is property and trademark of the author. ~the editor.

FREEZER-TOONS

What better place to publish my own work with a layer of anonymity than my own blog. FREEZER-TOONS are my random illustrations that need a home. Magnetized chucks of marketing holding up ART that will not be added to the Sistene Chapel recreation room addition, on my freezer. And what better space than grippingthewheel with a potential audience of 7. That includes the artist/author. Brightening up, lashing out or confusing the world six people at a time. Study this carefully, it will be on the exam. Whoa yeah.

Special thanks to my assistant Karrie who, along with keeping me healthy, laid out this storyboard.

MY CAT EATS CHEETOS.

Holy shit. It is true. My cat, the infamous Stanley Kowolsky now enjoys eating Cheetos with me. This might have mattered to me a while back. It seemed important. Suddenly, all of our inane crap was relevant. Farmvilles. Lunch pics. Witty stuff on a poster-like graphic. ha-ha. Flowers. Relationship status[es]. Cat videos. Campaigns for things. Campaigns against stuff. It didn't matter. It did not matter. It did not fucking matter? Wall Street attached value to my public self-analysis. No anxious relays begging for my witty remarks on a cat post? YOU ARE IMPORTANT. That was the cover page of Zuckers' IPO proposal. Neuroses have market value, right? And you can sell bananas to monkeys, yes? Sell shares based on Guokas' dinner and cat pictures. A status update is a urine stream of gold coins humanity, shake-shake- wisdom. One longed for my pithy repartee on Palin or Lohan? I wanted to click on an advertisement to relieve my anxiety and depression. Hell, my facebook replies that I struggled over, grammar and just the oh-so nuanced appropriate tone that could be relevant in the far future, might be quoted on a morning wake-up with traffic TV break. What? MAKE ME AND MY PIECE OF CRAP LIFE RELEVANT. NAY, IMPORTANT. IMPORTANTE! Right. It seems that nothing matters anymore if you are a single FIFTY YEAR OLD man. Without money. If you're packing a fat bankroll...BOOF. A magical sexified glow-ring appears. A gun? Badgers still care, and Recall Voices Will Be Heard, buT Still. A defining moment... Hell, defining moments are non-existent on a planet porking out at approaching 7 billion humans. Facebook stock will monetize BFF-ery. The IPO is proof that feelings can be quantified. And if you don't belong you will be shunned. What if I don't allow everyone to know my every daily event? Here's something I spit up a few days ago at Esquire.com that booted over to facebook because I neglected to to uncheck something: "Bailed on FB [facebook] a whopping two months ago. A year and a half ago my 19-24 yo nephew dropped the hint that facebook is NOT cool. And for godssake, it's the pink-meat factory of data mining. Every word is sucked into a Marketing-swamp. And savvy folks with a bit of capital will short the sh@t out of this bag of magic beans. This company is worth MySpace dollars. It was cute when it started. No, it's simply data mining for the new Weasel Economy. This American innovation requires no human labor, it creates nothing. A Sears parking lot has more true value. Unless, maybe pictures of my cat are valued works of art. A crap chat room worth billions and billions? I call Bullshit." Shunned. Am I now shunned? I apologize facbook.com industrial complex. Apple told me to think different. So I'll be different. Like everybody who is different like me.

  The above action photograph is the author flying by at roughly 35mph with approximately 20ft of air circa Winter 1984-85 at Greek Peak, Virgil, NY. A sample from the calendar, promotional films touting the magic and lifestyle of alpine festivities in scenic Central New York State. Additional autographed action stills in various cool angles and dangers are available in the lobby.

neighborhood afternoon

Saturday. Clearing myd with a nice neighborhood ramble. These are flowers on my roll. And cats. Specifically, black green-eyed cats with their own certain... Ask Kowolsky. They are everywhere. Cats that are disguised as Stanley Kowolsky aka Chocolate Thunder/Black Lightning. Two imposter cats trying to impress a passerby. It's a favorite time of year, it's bright green and deep green and colors on flowers that make paint an insult. Flora meet Fauna.

Nice. It's very quiet.

That's Stanley and Stella

Merci, Monsieur Pepin

Jacques Pepin is a brilliant teacher. His wry wit, patience, charm and mastery of Food shone through on his series with Julia Child. That's when I first became aware of the sly Frenchman. Who else would dare match wits and Old French technique with Queen Juliua? Their disagreements are all perfect recipes withing recipes of the same recipe. Mind-blowing.

When I watch Pepin I am simultaneously in awe and emboldened to try a dish or three outside the comfort zone. Brussel spouts with bacon, vinegar, butter, salt, pepper, steam-sizzled is so simple and brutally delicious it's like a revelation. And then you start thinking crazy... These brussel sprouts...and then you lay on a sunny side egg on top... the joy flows from creativity and simplicity and a quality ingredients. His solo PBS show is by far the best inspirational, technique-savvy program out there. A grilled cheese sandwich is elevated to casual decadence. Because of Jacques: marbled rye buttered on both sides with real butter, Gruyere and fontina, dijon, a few caramelized onions a shave or three of jambon...grilled under a foil-wrapped old brick. Has he ever made that? No idea. But if you watch him, Monsieur Pepin would approve the small effort it takes to create an experience we deserve. In the time it would take struggling with faux fromage individual cellophane wrappers, you can have THIS. We have tastebuds that deserve a new experience, simple and calm as that. Simple. Perfection really isn't that difficult, watching Jacques will do that to you.

Some have a trip to a Superbowl or a World Series as a Make-A-Death-Row-Wish. Me, I'd like to spend a week shopping for food and cooking with this Master and genius. And eating it all... Amen.



Both photographs are of meals prepared from scratch by the author.

Magic Beans

Someday, some lucky SOB might get the glorious and high holy opportunity to sample my newest Pepin-inspired creation. For now, I am the Sole-Soul Flavor Savor Speculator. And still, naysayer clown princesses leap out of the Dark Night. Pffft. One rookie petulant assistant doubts whether a possibility exists for recreation of this masterpiece. BAH AND HARUMPH I SAY! Crock Pot Scratch-BBQ Green Chile Black-eyed Peas & lovely Shatter Bacon. [Scratch soak peas for six hours; cook without salt until el dente.] Hatch, NM green chile, secret 20 ingredient scratch sweet tangy sophisticated-hot bbq sauce cooked with cool-looking groove-peas. Crock Pot HI setting for a rumbling roll *blorp blorp* four hours. Big. Bowl. Peas.
















Peas, with a fistful of rendered-until-crystallized roasted bacon. Over Arborio rice started with zee drippings... Top with more crunchy pork shards. The BBQ sauce, while ingredient heavy, is simple dump-drop and stir over heat. [Red wine vinegar instead of cider vinegar is surprising and perfect.] Roasting the bacon in one twisted piece in a Dutch oven for 1 1/2 hours @ 375- magic happens. It takes on an architectural crunch structure. Place a big hunk of debris on the center of your Peas. Open weeping is perfectly acceptable. This GUOKAS GEM will win an award.

It's needs a name, this glory to glories. Maybe: Dick Cheney grew a new heart it was so good Soup. Or the "Hadron Particle Super-Collider of Whirled Peas" and maybe perhaps a "superconducting~~ bending zippy, zingy, zangy-tangy protein-y vitamin B's nutrient bonanza..." Or Perfectly Porky Pea Zoop.

An Encounter With Greatness

UNM, the secret hideout of Political Science geniuses/cool dudes:

Fred, or "Senator Harris" as I addressed his proper title, was truly a cool dude. Two courses with him, only classes ever where I had to sit in the front row. Makes me paranoid to sit with my back exposed, anywhere. Shot or stabbed in the back in a previous life is the only potentially plausible explanation. Anyway.

Because I read the books in syllabuses, I spoke freely when idiot mouth-breathers/classmates (a drawback to semi-open enrollment State Universities) so Fred got a kick out of it as I'd have to spin my chair around to thrash the unfortunate one throwing out an ass-kiss response. I love Political Science deeply and I read very quickly and I'm intolerant in room of 'what do I need to do to passers'. I want to hear a former United States Senator and Democratic presidential primary challenger. And as you know, being a student with life experience beyond zits and little tits, you grasp the opportunity to actually learn from smart people. And you're paying a shit-ton of money for this concept. Those people talking at you know more than you, have done more than you in some fashion and you want to pick their brains. Mmm brains.

Fred was a righteous motherfucker. In his life and in the classroom. Easiest class in the world. For the most, his lectures were long and Senatorial. Yield the Senator/Professor Harris as much time as he sees fit. Without objection. Nothing he regaled his captive audience with was ever on an exam and TA's corrected all his students tests and papers. He ran for President for fucksake. Do you think he gives a hoot about what some belt-buckle pink-neck from Catron County has regurgitated from the Let's Explore The Constitution and The Role Of The Court In America? Hey, Gun-rack. Read his goddamn syllabus, you shit-kicker and Miss Bangin' Latinas 112 sitting next to me if you want to follow his train of thought. Or read one of the books HE WROTE. The two smart, hot chicks in my major that I shared many classes with were in the back row. Where I'm supposed to be. Challenging to be older and married and in college, no one mentioned that in orientation. I'm loyal and honorable, never strayed. Universities are jam packed with smart chicks. Uh... Where was I?

Yes. Right then. Ahem.  Harris told stories. About the United States of America Senate. He told this story about saving one of my favorite places on planet Earth: Taos and Blue Lake. wikipedia got this right: "was sharply divided on numerous other issues, notably the Vietnam War. In doing so, he had to overcome the powerful fellow Democratic Senators Clinton Anderson and Scoop Jackson, who were firmly opposed to return of the Taos lands. As recounted by Harris' wife LaDonna, who was actively involved in the struggle, when the bill was finally passed and came up to be signed by the President, Nixon looked up and said: "I can't believe I'm signing a bill that was sponsored by Fred Harris.".[4]" I...About Vietnam. Running for freaking President, The Campaign Trail '72 and '76. Sound familiar? Right there, three fucking feet in front of me was live HST-History. Awestruck I was, similar to Bill Murray in Where The Buffalo Roam's bathroom scene where he drugs 'Harris from the Post' and Nixon says 'Fuck the Doomed'. Except twice a week I was privileged to hear realpolitic from an insider's insider.

I believe Senator Harris genuinely enjoyed his UNM gig. And even after graduation I'd bump into him at lunch or dinner out and about at the few Albuquerque better restaurants (expense account days during the roaring Clinton Years), and he had the true politico knack for remembering my name and even knowing I got a gig at Morgan Stanley Dean Witter. Albuquerque is a small town in interesting ways. Offered a glass of wine to Jan and me, or a beer if it was me. Even eating a bowl of green chile stew at the Frontier Restaurant across from campus on Route 66, he had that aura. As you can tell, movers and shakers or his wife or friends really need peace and respect. A great booming Senatorial laugh. I remember him for his presence, I'm certain he was a short guy but had that unique character trait of filling a room. However, I came up with an excuse or two to justify the times I went to his elusive office hours, that's what teaching assistants are for. Yet, he always had a brief anecdote that had nothing to do with my questions if you tracked the Senator down. Weird, he'd tolerate my occasional smack-down of the hayseeds, I suspect that's how a guy who was closer than most men in becoming the Chief Executive delegates to a Rahm Emanuel-type. A mustached hummingbird with a huge melon and a window rattling voice that was 19th Century loud. Hard to explain Harris. He was also decent enough to write me, or rather had someone write me, a generic letter of recommendation years later when I thought about going to law school. Shaking his hand at department graduation ceremony, he hung my Phi Kappa Phi award around my neck and laughed. Jesus he was in fact short, looked me eye to eye almost and laughed. One of those rare moments in life. Fred lived in Corrales, NM, down the road that feels like perfect New Mexico.

In the most selfish of ways, I enjoyed my time at the University of New Mexico as a high-water mark that's very difficult to explain; cliches are sometimes genuine AND gloriously personal.

My seeming misfortune of snapping a few vertebrae allowed me to become an actual student, and I'm going to take a wild swing. About as much fun as a man can have with his clothes on. Small University departments at State schools are goldmines for exceptionally interesting people. Found a box of photos a few weeks ago that I'm intending to scan. There's a snap of me and my fellow backbencher Charles at our tiny graduation party, I'm smiling so hard, Charles' blackness is nearly peeling off. I've a few more Political Science professor tales, the fine gentleman who wowed me with his post WWII diplomacy something-or-other elective, the young man-he was a military liaison of sorts. Played poker with Truman. A drop of tension with some type of big bomb and generals bitching about commies. Political Science stats analysis professor and then friend, quit after my semester. She opened up http://www.kellysbrewpub.com/. Killer pub, as in what's a pint of Guinness on doing Central Ave? Beer is brown?

Wait...there's more! Enough Guokas. Except the Mineshaft Tavern, in Madrid, http://www.themineshafttavern.com, an actual roadhouse and a deathbed dream in Galisteo county. Right there on the backroad to Santa Fe,  -Hi-Lo Country (went to the premier in Santa Fe) // No Country For Old Men // Wyatt Earp // Silverado // all filmed on this stretch. Giving free-thinking men of thought a reason to live:/index.html

And Easy Rider, Taos and Georgia O'Keefe, the Roundhouse, and Alamagordo and T or C and the Hila Forest and Silver City and North the Enchanted Circle, Four Corners, Very Large Array with Pie Town, the Owl Cafe with Elvis, the Fair Grounds on Saturday, Sadie's green chile enchiladas, the Winner's Circle Bar down in Ruidoso, Madrid Madrid Madrid and the bat caverns of Carlsbad (Viewmaster in real life)... I enjoyed my time there, good spot for an anglo's 2nd home. Taos Hum. Lord, mercy.

A magnificent diatribe to relive. Brought to you by Bourbon, America's spirit of glory and preferred beverage of free-thinkers everywhere.



  Along with an incredible record, see the abbreviated bits at the Senator's bio: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fred_R._Harris