Sunday, June 18, 2017

Donny Thump-Thump warms his flock

The other day, exploiting this illus-
tration, the theory of the well-reg-
slated militia was discussed, to keep
tabs on the new government. That gov-
ernment's neglect of this phrase, in
its rapture to bear arms, need not in-
hibit rational people from collaborat-
ing in their defense, as a bucket brig-
ade of evidence carriers. Last evening,
over a modest salad of cold chicken,
frisée, and the usual binding and dec-
orative elements of a late Spring gar-
den in the mid-Atlantic, I undertook
my share of this chore by watching a
dvd unfurling Felipe Cazals' Canoa
(1976), inspired by the facts of a
small town's descent in the state of
Puebla, into a night of ill-regulated
militancy. I could have been at a rally
of Donny Thump-Thump's, but as I say,
I was detained by chicken salad.

I could have heard the rally's prefig-
urement, in a season of broadcasts and
postings from alt Right Hell; I could
have witnessed the inventions of one
great, revolting lie about a President's
birth, or catalogued the depredations
of a strip mall pizza parlor against
the faithful and the innocent. I don't
know; don't such lambs of god ever con-
sider chicken salad?

I could have thrilled to the snarl-
ing orator, his orange-tinted self,
exhorting acts of violence he dared
not name too often in one place, but
left no doubt of in his wake. I might
have steadied myself to look chanting
hordes right in the face, beneath his
nodding, beaming countenance, and its
louchely bloated grin. I had chicken
salad to get through, and agrarian
travelers as itinerant terrorists.
All of modern Mexico knows exactly
what I might not have learned, had
I gone to Donny Thump-Thump's rally.
I had to see what he means, to know
what he says. I had to see what he
meant that day he descended by his
gaudy escalator, to save our souls.

Felipe Cazals
Tomás Pérez Turrent
Alex Phillips. Jr.
  A Shameful Memory
Conacine/STPC, 1976©

ii  Andrei Tarkovsky
      Polaroid print, undated

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