Miami, Florida

[wsduncanb]

My Hunted Animal's Life: The Psychology Of Survival.

S-Size up the situation
U-Use all your senses;
undo haste makes waste
R-Remember where you are
V-Vanquish fear and defeat panic
I-Improvise
V-Value living (value your life)
A-Act like the natives
L-Live by your wits, but, for now,
learn basic survival skills
--U.S. ARMY's FM21-76

[The GUERRILLA FIGHTER] must be indefatigable. He must be able to
produce another effort at the moment when weariness seems
intolerable. Profound conviction, expressed in every line of his
face, forces him to take another step; and this not the last one,
since it will be followed by another and another and another until he
arrives at the place designated by his chiefs.
He ought to be able to endure extremities, to withstand not only
the privations of food, water, clothing, and shelter to which he is
subjected frequently, but also the sickness and wounds that often
must be cured by nature without much help from the surgeon. This is
all the more necessary because usually the individual who leaves the
guerrilla zone to recover from sickness or wounds will be
assassinated by the enemy.
To meet these conditions he needs an iron constitution that will
enable him to resist all these adversities without falling ill and to
make his hunted animals life one more factor of strength...(GUERRILLA
WARFARE, pg. 76.)

SIZING UP THE SITUATION (1980-Blues Brothers *****)
MIAMI, Florida - This is a big city. As large as Seattle, Washington
and much larger than the City of Washington, D.C. -- where I was
born. Eavesdropping, now, upon the short-wave, citizens'-band,
emergency and all-frequencies "cross-talk" on my handy little RADIO
SHACK police scanner, to get a sense for what things are like on any
given day here in the heart of the metroplex (SCANNING RADIO
COMMUNICATIONS: a habit I picked-up from my sojourns in Amarillo and
El Paso, Texas), I kind of have a rough feel for what my reputation
must be like among all the law enforcement personnel assigned to make
my life a living hell; I kind of have an idea about the overall
attitude this general public here in Miami have in regard to my
unwanted presence: "LIFE IS CHEAP AND YOU'RE A DEAD MAN!"

I could not have picked a more dangerous place east of Los Angeles,
and south of Chicago and New York City. I will not deceive myself
about this fact: The first chance, the first opportunity, the
slightest justification and merest pretext will suffice for the
police to use deadly force against me. And it isn't a matter of me
taking an aggressive stance, either. The real issue here is that
that aggressive stance will be one of PERCEPTION. As in, "It looked
as if [fill in the blank]... and that was enough to have Officer So-
and-so open fire and kill him." The FEDS will make it their primary
objective to bring the desired "aggressive stance" about.

Everyday, trying so hard to write something meaningful for this YAHOO
NEWSGROUP, I feel that I'm communicating my last, final words before
the inevitable execution: "A man on DEATH-ROW asked to leave a few
words for posterity before the switch is thrown." What could
possibly cause this feeling? Surely, it couldn't possibly be the
fact that I'm under 24-hour police surveillance and that the F.B.I.
pays off local thugs to harass me, beat me, and shoot at me
everywhere I go, could it?

Their likely reply: "You moved here to Miami, Florida from Houston,
Texas which obviously means you're SUICIDAL, and we all know that
suicidal men are extremely dangerous men." I hate police-state logic!

Ignore the fact that ANY rational human-being would be, or would
become, suicidal if faced with my reality. My reality being that
Vietnam and Bosnian War-like slow, sinking feeling of impending death
lurking around the next street corner: "It can only be a matter of
days, hours perhaps, before the police snipers decide that my guitar
looks like a rifle and the fatal shots ring out." Whenever I step
outside, I am aware of the rifle cross-hairs on my covered balding
scalp and nothing else. "Hey," they no-doubt reason using that
awesome police-state logic of theirs', "If you're suicidal, then let
us make your difficult leap into that gloomy, dark abyss called HELL
easier for you: Stick your ass out, motherfucker! Evil-doer!"

[Bluesman2]

Was this written after a late evening stroll through the "Pork and Beans" housing projects? Or maybe a little jaunt into Overtown, Little Haiti, or Liberty City?

[wsduncanb]

Actually, it was written in Houston, Texas after a hair-raising encounter with Bay City, Texas police and the F.B.I. (V.U.U. never again)! Don't Let CHUDSON Go Down On Me N-yet, maine!

http://www.geocities.com/wduncanbinns/

I can't fight
no more of your darkness
All my pictures
seem to fade to black and white
I'm growing retired
and time stands still before me
Frozen here
on the ladder of my life

It's much too late
to save myself from falling
I took a chance
and changed your way of life
But you misread
my meaning when I met you
Closed the door
and left me blinded me by the light
We've got two moor, besides,
and enough for HOV-4

Don't let the CHUDSON
go down on me
Although I search myself,
it's always someone else I see
I'd just allow a fragment of your life
to wander free
But losing everything
is like CHUDSON going down on me

I can't find
Oh, the right romantic line
But see me once
and see the way feel
Don't discard me baby don't
Just because I S-A-D you think I mean you harm
Just because you have AIDS think I mean you harm,
Oh, rape of the lock
But these cuts I have, cuts I have
They need love, the psychos
They need love, they need love to help them heal

Oh, Don't let CHUDSON
go down on me
Although I search myself,
it's always someone else I see
I'd just allow a fragment of your life
to wander free
Cause' losing everything
is like CHUDSON going down on me

Don't let CHUDSON
go down on me
Although I search myself,
it's always someone else I that see, Ye-ah
I'd just allow a fragment of your life
to wander free baby oh
Cause' losing everything
is like CHUDSON going down on me


Turds?: That's What Toilets Are For!!

"I'm so convinced that there's this direct connection between any
given N.A.S.A. space shuttle launch (i.e. Discovery) and the showing-
up for (prison/military) training camp that I've given up all such
appointed days for pre-meditation and holistic medicinal healing.
What has it cost me? Nothing if this Miami Dolphins' preseason will
count for anything." -- Ricky Williams, Miami Dolphins' Running-Back.

"That's What Friends RE-4"
-- by Sam Donald Warlockson

And I never thought I'd feel this way
And as far as I'm concerned
I'm glad I got the chance to say That I do believe I love you
And if I should ever go away
Well then close your eyes and try
To feel the way we do today and then if you can remember

Keep smilin', keep shinin', ragman troy
Knowing you can always count on me fo'shure
That's what friends RE-4
For good times and bad times
I'll be on your side forever moor
That's what friends RE-4

Well you came and opened me heart
And now there's so much moor I see
And so by the way I oxygen-tank you
And then for the times when we're apart
Well then close your eyes and know
These words are coming from my open heart
And then if you can remember

Keep smilin', keep shinin', ragman troy
Knowing you can always count on me fo'shure
That's what friends RE-4
In good times and bad times
I'll be on your side forever moor
Ohh That's what friends RE-4

Keep smilin', keep shinin', ragman troy
Knowing you can always count on me fo'shure
That's what friends RE-4
For good times and bad times
I'll be on your side forever moor
That's what friends RE-4

Keep smilin', keep shinin', Achilles Roy
Knowing you can always count on me oh
For Helen of Troy
That's what friends RE-4
For good times and for bad times
I'll be on your side forever moor
That's what friends RE-4

p.s. Actually, something Dionne Warwick wrote.
p.p.s. Does anyone know the Taoist WAY to San Jose, Costa Rica?

[Bluesman2]

Houston, Texas. Woohoo. I have some fond memories of that town. Great bbq joints there and some pretty cool people there too. I didn't get a chance to check out the Space Center, there's always next time.

My father and I made a delivery in the "Third Ward" section of Houston. It was pretty hairy in there, but we had some awesome fried chicken at this little mom and pop joint.

The traffic in that town is worse than LA or even DC. I don't know why, it was just snail slow there all the time.

[wsduncanb]

Mi amigo, you are a virtual travel-guide for the poverty-stricken areas of Houston, Texas and you have completely stunned me with your insider-like knowledge of my old haunts in that there city. I can and do appreciate you for what you know about the streets of Washington, D.C. too! A much travelled soul you are without a doubt, mate.

Richmond, Virginia's CHURCHILL district is no cakewalk by any stretch of the imagination, either, and it abounds with all sorts of horrible dangers and even a decade proves to be no barrier to the troubles I have seen and still see (the years I spent in the Old Cradle Of The Confederacy are still not behind me): An arson investigator from that great state, Virginia, paid me a visit yesterday and asked me how I'd been doing since my Virginia Union University days. "Surprised I didn't turn myself in, are you?" He could only manage a smile.

"Don't you miss your family up in D.C.? They certainly miss you."

I said, "Man, you couldn't get me to step foot in Virginia again if you offered me amnesty and used my mother for leverage."

He said, "Your more than a person of interest to us now. You're a fuckin' bonafide terrorist! You're an arson suspect. In fact, you're at the top of our list for the 1994 fire. I'm in your face to make you remember that, yes, William, the F.B.I. are after you."

These guys won't be satisfied with a mere EXTRADITION.

[Bluesman2]

Much travelled? I dunno know about that . Been through plenty of the "other" America when I ran the road.

[wsduncanb]

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/shadowobjectivists/

You roll in smelly stuff to disguise your scent, you disturbing, cat litter savouring, penguin romancing, forgotten firstborn of a nihilistic accountant.