Recurring Dream

27/4/9

Been having this recurring dream, Parishioners…

Here’s last night’s vershun:

We’re at a venue,
ready to rock,
got a setlist & all;
due to go on

but we haven’t practiced…

Me & Brother R - live at Max's Kansas City

I have stalled the crowd a little with Poesy
but it’s time for us to go on.

I’m arguing with Brother R –
“We’ll just wing it” I offer hopefully
“We can’t do this – we just fucking can’t!” he objects
but we have no choice.

I climb on stage, grab the mikestand
from over in front of Brother R’s rig,
set up my mike
& I’m ready to go.

Alone on stage

I start punchan out Sister Ray/Foggy Notion
like I know what I’m doan.

Sooner or later
Brother R heaves an exasperated sigh –
we gwan be bottled off stage tonite –
& lumbers onto the stage
& starts thunderan out bass.

From somewhere near Heaven
the keyboards cut in

and we are ON!

Friends of Sister Ray

Every Day Carry

21/4/9

Parishioners know that I am not a man of violence by any means;

preferring to reason with people holding differing ideas & attitudes.

Nonetheless, I do like to Be Prepared whenever I sally forth from The Reverendry.

This fellow has a particularly enlightening approach to preparedness -

his EDC and accoutrements (yes, ‘Tish, that’s French!)  are a little more versatile than my Go Bag,

but nowhere near as sexy!

My approach toward preparedness involves a series of increasingly comprehensive stand-alone modules, starting with my standard EDC at the top of the pyramid, then my supplemental EDC, a Go Bag, various vehicle kits, a GHB, my BoB (that I continually add/subtract individual modules to adapt to a particular situation), an INCH bag, and finally a safe room in my home where most everything is kept (along with several items that are simply too large/heavy/impractical to ever become mobile).

My standard EDC (at least as I choose to define it here) are items that I consistently have in my pockets anytime that I venture outside my neighborhood. [my italics] It does not include food, water, shelter, or the numerous other items that I carry in my laptop shoulder bag (when I actually use one), my Go Bag (which is always within close reach of me whether at home, in the car, or at the office) or the specialty items that I routinely carry when I venture into the wilderness.

AND he has a BMW!

I generally wear TNF Paramount convertible pants, so the Gerber is located in the RH vertical slit pocket, the keychain and mini Bic lighter are in the right front pocket, the MSK in the right front zippered pocket, and a second mini Bic lighter with an o-ring around the top to prevent accidental discharge of butane (not shown) and the OTC medications are carried in the left front pocket. I carry two lighters for the simple reason that I smoke, so the first is the one that I use daily, while the second one remains unused (insuring that I always have a full lighter if needed).

Although not truly EDC by my definition, I generally carry a Glock G27 .40 S&W with two spare magazines anytime that I leave the house, although more often than not it stays in the car while I am at the office, traveling by air to an event, or if I’m meeting with customers/clients.

remember, no liquids allowed...

Bless his little heed!

Le Rev Dr & MLK

Parishioners,

you may recall our avid admiration for Mr Joshua Green Allen

Has this admiration been somehow reciprocated?

I find someone being both a Reverend AND a doctor to be a little show-offy. C’mon MLK, pick a side.

3:52 PM Jan 19th

Dive into Fireland!

The Sacred Spot

6/4/9

Parishioners,

one o’ my Dear Friends has succumbed
and created a blog -

I give unto you Perineum!

An excerpt:

Oh shit, the Dutch started it. That dickhead Vlamingh, mustering all the seagoing knowledge possessed in Europe at the time, managed to land off the Western Australian coast at 32º South imagining himself to be in Java. His men, sent to look for water on an offshore island came back and reported the place was dry and worse, it was populated by hundreds of bloody huge rats. Vlamingh retired to his cabin to drink schnaaps and doodle in the captain’s log, emerging four hours later with a wild look in his eye and declaring he had thought of a name for the island. “Rottsnest (sic),” he declared with slurred triumph. His men looked at him with the usual disrespect but thinking, almost to a man, what a genius was their captain.

signpost to The Sacred Spot

I look forward to many many moments of joi!