Viva La Beard!

What an amazing week. Monday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Tuesday was Obama Becomes President Day. And now comes Thursday the 22nd, which is one of my favorite holidays, St. Willie Nelson's Beard Day.

I realize that some of you, depending on which religion you subscribe to, may not even be aware that Willie Nelson's Beard is an actual, bona fide Saint, but indeed it is. Specifically, it is the Patron Saint of Picking Up Hitchhikers.

This holiday is generally observed by bikers, truckers, lot lizards, hobos, rodeo cowboys, hippies, vagrants, and other earthy, outlaw types. Most folks celebrate St. Willie Nelson's Beard Day simply by driving around and giving any hitchhikers they might see a lift. Of course, there are many other ways in which one can honer The Beard.

My good buddy Earl Diggs, for example, celebrates St. Willie Nelson's Beard Day each year by throwing a big shindig out at his auto repair shop over in Woodville (just off State Road 319, about a half mile past Happy Jack's Beer Shack & Holistic Health Clinic). These parties are always a lot of fun, with plenty to drink, occasional nudity, and surprisingly few fatalities.

Earl's band, The Grave Diggers, do Willie Nelson covers all night long, which, I admit, can get a little tiresome. If enough people start throwing beer bottles at the stage, however, they'll usually appease the audience and toss in a couple of Johnny Paycheck numbers, or maybe even a Steppenwolf tune.

The grand finale, though, comes at the end of the night, when we all pay homage to His Beardness by offering up the annual SIRSA (Sacrificial IRS Agent), whom we cleanse in the Upside Down Red Beard of Wrath (which is actually a giant bonfire, representing Willie's Beard as it might appear were it worn by the Earth itself.)

This may sound a bit gruesome and archaic to some of you modern, "educated" folks, but Woodville's a small town, and they take their religion seriously, like in the old days. Also, they get really, really drunk.


Celebrations are not always so serious, of course. Flo Ledbedder, part-time mother of six and professional Meth Lab Engineer's Assistant, likes to ceremonialize St. Willie Nelson's Beard day by going down to Hank's Hell Hole, the local biker bar, knocking back 8 or 9 Harvey Walbangers in quick succession, and then jumping up on a pool table while gyrating to the jukebox and proudly displaying her magnificent tattoo:

Flo is a dynamite lady, and while these displays of religious fervor can be very entertaining to watch, I can't help but wonder how Flo's partners feel about sticking their Pride & Joy directly into the Red Headed Stranger's chin. I suppose they probably try not to think about it. I'm trying not to think about it right now.

I read somewhere that elderly women have no pubic hair, that, eventually, it all just falls out. Poor Willie. He's going to look very strange one of these days.


My other good friend, Ricky "The Blade" Scruggs (God rest his soul), had his own colorful way of honoring SWNB Day, which was to drive up and down the interstate in his Ford F-150, pick up unsuspecting hitchhikers, and then scare the living crap out of them. Once they were going down the road, he'd pull out his shiny, over-sized butcher knife and start waving it around, while talking about how hitchhikers were "a little stringy, but real tasty".

Ricky was a hell raiser, for sure, but he didn't mean any harm by it. Everyone's different, and that's just how he liked to have fun. The stories he would tell about those little encounters would have the boys down at Hank's shooting Pabst Blue Ribbon right out of their noses. Unfortunately, Ricky passed away one year ago, shortly after picking up his very last hitchhiker, Bobby "The Pistol" Wilson.


I, of course, have my own unique way of observing St. Willie's Beard Day. Not to be uppity or anything, but, as you can probably tell, The Captain is slightly more sophisticated than his "good 'ol boy" counterparts down at Hank's Hell Hole. While these guys and gals have much to offer in the way of drama, irony, and situational comedy, I tend to approach these types of spiritual matters in a more thoughtful, philosophical way. Having graduated from highschool and all.

I like to meditate on the deeper meaning of The Beard, and reflect on all that it symbolizes. Willie's chin-bush is a mysterious archetype, when you think about it. It is always coming and going at the same time. The beard on his chin today is not the beard that was there in 1979... yet it remains "his beard". How is that possible? Can something that is be something that was? And if it isn't, then was it ever?

Such a paradox.

And here's another mystery: while Willie himself is still very much alive, his beard is technically dead. And yet it somehow grows. How can a dead thing grow? If something that is dead can grow, is it really dead? Is this some kind of crazy miracle, or simply The Beard's way of reminding us that death is an illusion? And if death is an illusion, then what is life? Are shadow and light one in the same? Does the entropy of death simply reach critical mass, and then manifest itself as the ecstasy of birth?

The fibers of Willie's beard intertwine with one another, in ways that are too complex for us mortals to comprehend. Those curly, corkscrew strands are suspiciously similar in shape to the subatomic gravitational patterns which our scientists have discovered only recently. Is it merely a bizarre coincidence that Superstring Theory just happened to emerge in the 1970's... the same period in which Willie's beard blossomed onto the scene, becoming a lasting yin-yang symbol of unity between the seemingly ever-opposed Redneck and Hippie? Is Willie's beard a magical Superstringy Doorway out of this cartoonish 3D universe, and into another mystical zone, a super-dimensional realm where anything is possible?

Is there any other POSSIBLE explanation? Do you not SEE how it all FITS TOGETHER PERFECTLY???

We may never know the secrets held within that cellular mass of tangled, twisted dead-yet-aliveness. It's not as if The Beard owes us any favors, and, to be honest, most of us probably do not deserve its blessing. However, on January 22nd, the one day of the year that Willie's fluffy, hairy chin-spirit cruises through our simple, paint-by-numbers lives, it certainly doesn't hurt to stick the old thumb out and see if we can hitch a ride to a higher, or at least hairier, state of consciousness.

For even when Willie himself is dead and buried, that which is his facial hair will continue to flourish. I think we can all learn a lesson from that, and take comfort in the fact that, while the flesh is weak, the beard remains strong.

Have a happy St. Willie Nelson's Beard Day, everyone!

Artificial Unintelligence

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In The Future: Episode Three

Like most people, I party especially hard on New Year's Eve. If it's been a particularly good year, then I'll party hard as a celebration. If it's been a really crappy year, however, then I do it for more practical reasons - to see how many brain cells in my memory banks I can knock off. But, if it's been an average, so-so kind of year, then I do it because I just like getting really fucked up sometimes.

And, boy, I must've really done a number last night. You know you've had a good time when you wake up the next day in a hospital bed, wearing a paper nightgown, hooked up to a bunch of funny looking machines.

It was kind of strange this time, though. When I came to, the doctor on duty started acting all excited, like he just couldn't believe I'd actually woken up. I was feeling a little gnarly, of course, so I asked him if he had any morphine (you know, the good stuff, none of that cheap synthetic crap), but his reaction did not instill a lot of confidence. He said that that was the last thing I needed, and that he'd be right back with a "brain imaging specialist" or something, and that it was very, very important that I not exert myself or move my head at all.

"Well, can I at least get a freaking sponge bath?" I yelled out, but he was already running off to get his stupid brain specialist.

I was like "No morphine? Well, screw that, I'm outta here." Really, if you can't get decent drugs in a hospital, where can you get them? As I was making my way out, I passed by the nurse's station and overheard a couple of them talking excitedly about some idiot who'd been in a drug-induced coma for a whole year and had just woken up.

A whole year! I couldn't help but smirk a little. Some guys just can't hold their drugs.

Now, normally I would've went ahead and hung out at the hospital for a few days (I enjoy being pampered and not having to get out of bed to bathe or pee), but this time I was kind of anxious to get home and put up a blog post. My last post was on Christmas, which was 7 whole days ago, and I generally try not to let more than a week slide by without posting something (you know how dedicated a blogger I am). And besides, it being New Years and all (I still can't believe it's already 2008!), I wanted to do something special. So here it is:

Brought to you by Rawhide Condoms^TM
The only condom made from genuine leather!

Yes, I've been having futuristic “visions” again, and if you've read any of my previous predictions, then you know how eerily accurate they can be. And you know what? I have a feeling this year's predictions will be especially dead-on.


The End of an ERA
In 2008 the United States will elect their first female president. Suck on that, patriarchy! Ah, but there's a twist: it won't be Hillary. No, Hillary and her husband will mysteriously disappear after going on a deep-sea fishing expedition, leaving the Democratic ticket wide open.

All of a sudden this new female candidate, Belinda Clitton, will seem to appear out of nowhere. She will be an unknown, an exciting, fresh face on the political landscape. She will apparently have very little experience, but will exude a familiar, comfortable schmooziness not seen since the early 90's.


Belinda Clitton, center, posing with two of her favorite interns
Ok, so she's not the prettiest thing in the world, but, hey, it's not a beauty contest.

Congratulations, ladies. You finally made it, and you didn't let some idiot man get in your way. I knew you could do it.


Laissez-Fairy Tale
After 7 years of responsible, intelligent government, the US economy will suddenly start booming again. But, of course, our political leaders won't be able to take all the credit, as many of the economic gains will come about as a result of our efficient, self-cleaning, no-need-to-regulate system of Free Market Capitalism. Woohoo!

Because of the enormous profits made by General Motors, Goldman-Sachs, Citibank, and other top companies during this period, these businesses will all chip in and give $2,333 to every man, woman and child in the United States (that's over 700 billion dollars!), proving once again that giant corporations, if giving the chance, will indeed do the right thing.


Latter Gay Saints
California residents, in a rather vulgar display of power, will take advantage of their great numbers to band together and donate large sums of money to sponsor a new “Gay Marriage” bill, making same-sex marriage not only legal, but mandatory in the state of Utah.

When asked what motivated these West coast liberals to fund a bill concerning Utah, of all places, spokesperson Richard Puller will say “Oh, I don't know... we just really like screwing with Mormons, I guess.”


The 2nd Coming (part 11)
On February 8th, 2008, Anna Nicole Smith will rise from the dead, spit on her own grave, and then ascend into Heaven in a shaft of golden light. When she gets there, God will ask “So... how did it go?”, to which she will reply “Not good. Those idiots didn't get what I was saying at all.”

Then, after taking a shower and changing into into some clean clothes, she and God will have brunch.

“Listen, Daddy” she'll say. “Next time you do one of these 'Messiah' thingies, why don't you just send down another bearded guy? I think they were expecting a bearded guy. They seem to have a thing about bearded guys down there.”

“Hey, that's what I did last time, and look what happened. They nailed him to a piece of wood, for crying out loud.”

“Yeah, well, getting crucified in the media is no picnic, either. Why in the world did you send me down there, anyway?”

“I dunno. I thought maybe I'd sex it up a little. I feel like I'm running out of ideas, here. Hmmm... I guess I could always send down a black, one-legged, lesbian midget... we haven't tried that one yet...”


The Tell-Tale Duck
Ok, this last one's a little fuzzy, but I think it will basically happen like this:

OJ Simpson will follow up his 2006 suspense thriller “If I Did It” with a new book entitled “No, Really, I Did It. I'm, Like, Totally A Murderer.” Later that same year, he will complete the trilogy with “Look, I Stabbed My Wife and Her Lover To Death, OK? Would You Please Send Me to Freaking Jail, Already?”

He will then be arrested (and this is the part that's fuzzy) for running an illegal duck fighting operation out of his home. The jury will find him guilty, and he will be sentenced to 883 years in a maximum security prison.

Eventually, he will escape from prison, flee to Argentina, and write a book called “By The Way , I Also Killed This Homeless Guy Back In 1989.”


What A Year
Wow. What an interesting year 2008 is going to be, and I for one wouldn't want to miss a second of it. I have a feeling that, for me, this is going to be an especially good year. A year of hope, you might say. And change, too. I don't know why, but the words "hope" and "change" seem to be stuck in my head.

Anyway, it's going to be a blast, so enjoy it while you can (because 2009 is really going to suck).