House of Paine

peckerwood morphs (ACT I)

   at long last

   what
   exactly
   is it 
    you're
   tryin
   to  turn
   yourselves  into?

   and don't 
   give me
   the usual

   "geez 
   it ain't our fault "

   or

   " can ya blame uz"


   I'm not buyin 
   that shit
   today 
   Mr Peckerwood

    ======================





   no really 

   you fucking
   ass hole

   cough up
    the whole deal

   now
   pronto

   or its 
   going to get
   hairier 
   around here
   then
   down there 
   at 

   guantanamara

   or
    whatever 
   the fuck
   its called


   hurry up 
   and 
   tell me 

   still waitin................
   .........................
   still waitin ...............
   .............................

   what


   got nothin
   to say
    for yourselves 

     Mr I B A  Peckerwood  ?
   ...................................
     no answer ?
   ........................................




   shit 
   figures don't it 

   you
   types
    never 
   know
   anything
   about yourselves


   shit 
   you 
   wouldn't  know 
   your  ass hole
    from
   a  corn cob 
   ----------------------------------------

   I KNOW I KNOW

   I HEAR YA   

     "geeez

   why the senseless
   unmotivated rant pink? "



   fun sport 
    and 
   comrade Gracchus 

   ----------------------------


   remote
   meandering 
   back ground:




   big mama amerika
    has
   always sent 

   should i say 

     mixed  signals  

   to   her vast 
    debt drenched
   brood of
                " plebofytes "

   her
   restless 
   yoyo men
   ----------------------------
   for 175 years 
   at least 

   shes always

   catchin' em off guard 
   forcing them
    to change their ways

    from then till now 
   none of em 
   have
    ever 
   really known
   whats next 
   up for em 

   where they swim

   brother its
   strictly 
   rip tides
   and 
   keel bustin
   shoals  

   consequently
   over the years 

   they 've
    all 
   turned 
   kinda "mean"

   mean
   as
   in 
   " badger"
     mean

   or" uriah heep"
     mean

   ok" nixon" mean  

   ---------------------

   peckerwoods

   thats 
   what old blacks
    call em 
    

   maybe 
   the name 
   ain't so bad 

   if you admire
   the dumbo 
   persistence
   of 
   that
   red tuffted
   bark  driller
    ------------------------
   bip bip bip bip
   bop bop bop bop 
   bip bip bip bip 

   the country
   crested
   peckerwood 


   you got 
   sympathy ?
   ------------------

   at any rate 
    

    
     these
   fuckers
    
   these  

    "got  not
       want alot"
       children
             of
              big mama's 
     
   her
    "great"
   white 
   "make my own way" 
   middletude

   her 

    " well
   mostly I'm
   gist 
    in this for myself"
   types

   her 
     impossible 
   " skeemers"
   and
   "strivers "
   and  
    such not 

   come crunch time 
   they're all
    at heart 
    
    simple fuck balls  

   super 
   horny 
   hardons

   as graceless
   as
    a  three dollar
    blow job

   i mean
   if they were
    your kids
   and 
    you saw

   that 
   "time and time again"
   the little
    puss-globes
    can't  
   stop fucking 
    over
   their brothers and sisters 

   what would you do to em?

   what else
    makes sense

   you'd
     whack em 
   like their  mama does

   whack em
   every chance you got  
   and
    pull em 
   by the hair too
   ---------------------------------
    
   then 
   again
   their still " hers "
   right?

   so big mama 
   gets soft 
    on em 
   at times

   strokes em

   lets em
   dress up as 

   ronald reagan
   and 
   john wayne    

   but fuck 

   she knows damn well 

   under the covers

   they're

   a stinkin'
    gaggle   
   of 
   two bit 
   shuckers 
   and
   shitface shafters  

   and 
   that goes
   even for 
   the ones 
   who have
   maybe

   " made somethin
   of themselves" 

   prospered
    some 


   cause  
   sure

   maybe
    they've
   prospered

   but
   fuck it 

   they've
    never
   ever really  
   "arrived " 

    at least
    not 
   long
   enough
    to relax
   and have 
   a dry martini  

   ----------------------------

   shit on their 
   on best  nite


   they're 
   still

   "nothin
    but sugar coated
     cracker horse shit" 


   no matter 
   what
   their warin'
   on
   the outside

   jimmy stewart 
   or 
   an astronaut

   inside
   they're 

   small 

   hard dried   

   and 

   smelly  


   and  often
   pretty  sour 

   and why not 

   since 

   "every fuckin time 
   the party gets lit
   some
   fucking  ass hole
    always
    closes the bar on me "
   ----------------------------

   yes indeed 


   "  I  
   thrived
    but 
      I
   never
    arrived "

    could 
   easily be  
   below the belt 
   midrift amerika's 
   epitaph


   -----------------------------------

   at any rate 

   despite
   their utter sterility 
   and 
    their 
   mama's 
   righteous 
     bashings

   peckerwoods
   like head colds 
   and 
   smoke stacks

    are 
   still
   part of the american
   mechanism 
   and still 
   providing 
   a shit load
    of the 
   movin parts too

   so 
   figuring out 

   whats out there
    up ahead
   for em

   and 
   for uz too
    thru em

   is always
    prudence's
      best bet  

   cause
   you best 
    never 
   under estimate
   the stayin' power of

   pure spite 


   --------------------

   what ever happens
   of course

   the paradox 
     remains

   if they
    had just
   stayed wagerys
   or 
   let
    themselves
    be content
   with wagery

   when
    they fell into it 

   then
    their lives
    at least would be ..... 

   but

    they want better 

   so 
   they
    give up
   the comforts
   of
   "oh well"   resignation
   and 
   " the hell  with it "
   turning  back 

   in fact
   they never give it up 

   well no 
   thats not
   quite right

   at the drop of a hat 
   they'll give up on 
    the consolations
   of
   " community 
   and fellowship "

   the
   tolerant
    fraternity 
   of "the riff  raff"  

   ------------------

   faustian ?

   maybe 

   if you 
   are prepared 
   for
    ironic mode
   cartoonary 

   i guess
   maybe
   you could 
   call em
    faustian

   surely
   often enough

   a  time comes
   for them all 

   when
    they 
   want 
   back
   the one thing.....

   "but
   dildo  
   you traded
   that   away
   for a shot at ..."

   course 
   that don't
   stop
   the dumb ass
   motherfuckers
   from being
   resentful


   for them 
   renunciation
   of anything
   is just
   a bluff
    a bargaining chip 

   they're all 
   about
   wanting it back

   wantin it back 
   and then some 


   butfuck .... 

   ======================

   its all
   pretty basic stuff
   really 

   up
    there
   almost with 

   "boy meets girl" 

   trouble is 
   as i've said 
     all
   that
   time spent
   in the  deep 
   furnace 
    just  makes
    em 
    meaner
   more entitled
   more spiteful  

   ----------------------------------
   hence


   lady woodstock's 

   peckerwood "catechism" 

   -------------------------------

   "why
    is white amerika 's
   middle-middle 
   so nasty
   these days ?"

   simple

    
    in among em 
   we got 
   at
    a minimum about 
    35  million 
   peckerwoods

   around there 
   anyway

   countin males
    and shemales  both 

   ----------------------------


   'who are these peckerwoods ?



   simple 

   the guys are 

   the type
   a  ass hole
    that 
   jacked off

   every time  
   they thought of
    Monica's 
   fat soapy 
   ass 
   in a thong 

   and then
   jacked off
   again 

   when 
   they saw
    clinton
   gettin  impeached 


   the gals ?

   well best leave that for 
   a demigod
   to draw up 

   its beyond pinky

   cept to point
   out  :

   a)
    the guys out number em 3 to 1

   and

   b)
   ya don't want em
   starin over  at ya 
   from 
   the  jury box

   if ya
   "  look
   born rich
    act damn   loose
   and are 
   the defendant " 

   -------------------------



   " what makes
   some one 
   into 
    a full
   fledged
    peckerwood ?"



   thats easy too

   just 
   you 
   try  
   drinkin 
   their 

   "fuck you up"
     
   mixed punch  

   yourself sometime 

   its 
   two parts  
   high
   ambition 
   and 
   about
   nine parts 
   low 
   talent 

   i guarantee

   if ya 
   drink
   enough of that

   partner

   you'll find
   out 
   just exactly
   what
   a peckerwood iz

   cause you'll 
   be one


   peckerwoods
    are 
   all about 
   drinkin heavy 
   from
    the loser's cup 

   its their 
   natural 
   off duty pass time 

   yep 

   peckerwoods

   are
   all about  
    drinking 


   "good ole
   amerikan
   brimstone "

   shall we 
   count 
   a few  ways
   their lack of
   anything worth while 
   beyond
   ambition 
        makes em feel inside ?



   try these on 
    
    1 burning bullet 
     inferiority 

     2 pounding fever 
     financial  panic

    3 muffled  icy 
   frigid
   " nope we went
    with the other guy" 
   self loathing
    
   4 bileous
   chest singe-ing  
   " he really  got cancer  "
     spite

    5 heart squeezing

   " you got that order?"
     envy

   6     neutral gear  
   powerless as a chick 
   pedal to the medal
   raging no where   fury 

   and last
   " the icing
   on the cake " 

   7 ron reagan's
     lucky duck 
   patron smile/wave  
   in an unsigned  
   photo graph 

   there you have em

      there's 
        7 
   of
    middle ground 
    failure's
   attendent  dwarfs 
    
   add your own 
   ---------------------------------
     intermezzo

   my dear old dad 
   had settled views 
   on 
   the  moral dynamics
   of 
   desperate chancers 
   false bottom dreamers 
   and other
    assorted 
   peckerwoods :


   though he 
   often
   played
   the role of 
   employer
   of last resort
   for
    these
   very same  idiots
     in
    their desperate
   attempts
   " to stop 
           my   downslide " 

     my father
   could be
   harsh on peckerwoods 
   perhaps
    because 
   he was 
   not
   as my mother might say 
   "of their class 
   at all "

   and 

   in addition 
   for the most part 
   because he was
   not 
   " a man of huge
    com -passions "

    at any rate 

    he would 
   often turn  
   to me 
   after 
    some 
   self employed griper
   crossed his path 

   and say something like 

   "  whats wrong 
   with that fella ?

   guess 
   he doesn't 
     like
    
    uncertainty

    harshness

    injustice 

   well 
   whats
   he thinkin
   isn't 
   that  
   the free  market place 
   live by the sword..." 



   (then maybe there'd 
   be
   a tone change
     from
    feigned wonderment
   to false  snarl
   and he'd add 
   as if to the the guys face  )

   " why  
   not    
   try
   reading  
   your 
   god damn  Bible
   for once buddy-oo 

   maybe if you  
   read  a little Job ......."

   (moving off)

   " ya   big baby "


   ( then a few moments later
   obviously 
   still chewin it over)

   " besides
   pink 
    doesn't
   he   
   get it?

   things
    could be 
   worse
   for him 

   alot worse

   instead of
   working
   in the red 
    for himself

   instead of 
   drowning
   in his own
   pathetic 
   above ground  pool

   he could be 
   over here 
   working 
   on a %
   for
   fat guy like  me

   building
     my pyramid
   while putting on the 12th green   "

   ------------------------------------------

    Return to Peckerwood Grove  
   ------------------------------------------

   by the way 
   i can take no credit

   for the wonder
   of
    the peckerwood
    conception

     my komrade
   and 
   long time 
   collaborator

   the great 
   cyborgian tribune  

   COMRADE
   GRACCHUS 

   over at his blog 

   recently

   put me 
   back 
   on to
   the trail of 
    this 
   weirdest
    foulest of birds


   indeed

   it was
    GRACCHUS
   THAT
    POINTED 
   THE WAY

   to 
    the great "peckerwood" progress

   that endless 
   to and frow
    plowed    
   deeper then   whip lashes 
    across 
   the  secret heart
    of white america 

   and i must add

   he did it all
   without

   my patented
   " elephant walk  " :

   none of 
   the  worthless
    purple ploddings
   the Pinkster
   would 
    have needed
   for the job
    
   no

    he 
   pulled it off
   by 
   elegantly 
    conjuring
    a 
   single 
   pair
    of giants
   in a single pair 
   of paragraphs 

   just 
   two titans 
   that
   between 
   themselves
   pretty much 
    span 
   the
   whole of 
   the  peckerwood 
   cosmos 



   first and fore-most 

   the godfather 
   of them all 

   andrew jackson


   yes 
    old hickory
   himself

   and and and 

   the other ? 

   aaahhh 


   uuummmhhh

   non other 
    then 

    the
   kold war's 
   unshavable 

    five o'clock shadow

   aahhh

   richard 

   milhouse 

   nixon  


   -----------------------------

   indeed 

   AS

    GRACCHUS SHOWS
    UZ
   ALL

   with one long drive
   and a short putt 


   the two 
   not only
    belong 
   as a pairing 

   they

    ARE 
   THE PAIRING

   the twin
   dialectically
   counterposed 
     towers 
   of 
   today's 

   "peckerwood grove "


   the alpha and the omega  

   ===========================

   as you enter
   the grove


   there rises above you
   amidst all the infernal
   bark pecking 
    
    the Great Hero
   hisself

   every
   pissed off 
   pecker headed 
   paleface's
   peerless
    commandante

   standing tall
   and
   squared up

   like 
    an eagle
   ready to
   spread wings 
   and 
              soar 
   ----------------------------

   just at  
   the awesome sight
    of him 
   one  

   "ought 
    fall down in  prayer " 
    

   " oh lord
   send uz 
   another 
   man like
   jackson

   another
    giant 
   who can  
     lead 
   uz
   the fuck
    out of here "
    
   ----------------------

   so much for alpha......

   now  
   as to omega...


   no matter where
   one may  go 
   inside
   peckerwood grove

   no matter
    what else
    one does
   nor what path one takes  
   at last 
   one always
    comes  around
   to the same spot 

      and there 

   there

   there 

   how can i 
   discribe him?


   well

   you know


   shit 

   come on

   there's 

   "oh the poor
   wretched 
   self raking spirit " 

   there's

   that 
   funeral   suit  prometheus 

   "thunder struck "

   sitting 
   in his 
   oval office desk chair
   motionless
   huge head slumped 
   jaw dropped open
   to his chest 

   in the background
   you can hear 
   the infamous
   taping system
   caught forever 
   in an endless loop 
    playing back

   the 
   missing  minutes

   over and over .......


   why face it folks

   he he 
   he  could be...

   he could be 
    
   any one of uz

   am I correct ?

   any one of uz 

   only  writ large

    writ very large 


   yes 
   too large

   way way too large

   and 
   maudlin as it is to tell

   despite
    the pity and awe 
   one might choke 
   down

   all one 
   can think to say

   as one  turns
   one's  back
   on  him 

   iz

   "bye bye 
   uuuuhhhh 
   tricky dick"

   and receive 
   his blessing
   back 
   in return

   " bless you 
   uuuhhhh
   bless you 
   you fucking...
    peckerrrrwooooodd !! "

   --------------------------------------------------


   back to
   this post's
    raison d'etre

   (now at long last
    we can  begin) 
   ----------------------------------
   the morph 
   of 
   the peckerwoods

   act one 
   ---------------------------

   prologue:

   where
   goeth the
   peckerwoods 

   post nixon

   that iz


   where goeth they

   with
   the at long last 
    demise
   of 
   their ever adored

     sacrine cover singer

   their  shell 

   their  festival mask  

   their 
   Ronald  McEmpty 
    REAGAN   

   with 
   his kick off
   a whole  era 
   of 
   peckerwoodery
   surely
    has clanged
   to an end 

   so 
   where 
    from here ?
    

   into what 
   hideous new shapes 
   will 
    these
   ever so 
   over 
   strapped 
   and ugliest of souls
   be forced to 
   morph

   just 
   to survive
   the vicious 
   batterings 
    their dignity
   is 
   " ere(sic) to " ?
    
   in this new world up ahead
    
   will they 
   find promises
   kept  ?

   and 
   shame
   oblated  ?

   or will they
   just get
    the usual scalp job 
   the
   usual 
    boys regular shafting ?


   this we sadly note

   whatever" t'will be" 

   neither
   their 
   greatest
   hollywood 
    hero sandwitch  

   nor

    their
   biggest  
   most 
   disgraceful 
   full time 
   heel  
   can
    cross
   over with them...

   ---------------------------

   where 
    they will  awake
    tomorrow 

   and

    what shape
   and size 
    their new  ears 
   will grow to ?

   i leave for another post

   stay tune for the real act one

   and of course 

     you can count on   

    one of those  famous

    american second acts 
              too 
    ==========================