December 2005

             


The production of the Legend of Crazy George (LOCG) is at an end. Now, an accounting of what has been done must slowly unfold – providing for you Gentle Reader pieces of a puzzle for the LOCG is not one film but several. The film is a riddle easy at first to solve and them more complex the more you think monkey think. My council: when watching the film pay attention to what you see, what you hear and what you don’t understand all separately.

Today’s special feature: Skunkapes.

The extras section of the LOCG has interviews with experts, cast and crew on the nature and existence of the Big Foot and Skunkape. The interviews are factual and many of them backed by the scientific method – all but one which is such a fantastic piece of genius bull shit that it had to be included. I am very proud to announce that one of the interviews is with Mary the Tennessee Big Foot lady who is the region’s foremost authority on Big Foot activity. We have included these interviews to add a depth of understanding of the Skunkape as you got back time and again to watch and analyze the LOCG.

My story begins with the attached photo of a Skunkape. It is my Skunkape and not the Skunkape described by the experts and witnesses in the LOCG extras. Yes, there maybe the Big Foot sneaking about Tennessee, but the Skunkape and the Big Foot are not the same creatures, not at all. The Big Foot is a physical being while the Skunkape is a physical, spiritual creature which is also a vortex or gateway to another dimension. I have seen the creature and been consumed by it. What I experienced is in large part what the LOCG is about.

To be continued…

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             Zack put together the music to our film and "The Hussla" is the writer of this blog about New Orleans - she is a gifted bass player and idealist humanitarian goddess. This is a true story:

the train they call the city of new orleans
Current mood: discontent
Category: Life

So Zack and I have returned from New Orleans after volunteering with the Common Ground Collective, and I don't even know how to communicate my feelings about what we saw. We stayed and worked in the Lower 9th Ward with hundreds of people from all over the world who flew, drove, biked, walked, and hitched to the Gulf Coast to support the right of return for residents and help rebuild homes and communities that have been destroyed. We worked with Ms. Trudy in the house she was born in, which is now in ruins after being eleven feet under water for days after the levees broke. She's a single mom who lived with her elderly mother in this house for 38 years, and when they evacuated for Katrina the day before it hit, they expected to be back in a day or two, like everyone else did. So those who were able to leave left behind everything they ever had and packed a weekend bag of tank tops, shorts, Saltines and paperbacks. And while they were away, their homes were hit by a tidal wave, flooded, left under water, their neighbors who couldn't leave were abandoned to drown in their attics while the president was on vacation and Condoleeza Rice went shoe-shopping, their communities were left to die and then they were chased away with guns when they tried to get help or escape and were rounded up in a bowl of hell and dispersed so they couldn't get together and do something about it. They haven't been home since, three months later, and their neighborhoods look like a nuclear bomb was detonated inside every house, and their families haven't been reunited, and some family members will never be found or seen again, and their pets are roaming empty streets eating toxic trash, and they're getting evicted from their New Orleans homes while they're gone so rich white people can pay double their rent, and while all of this is going on, the only people who seem to be doing anything about any of it are the survivors and regular folks who give a shit and can't sit on their asses anymore. Seriously, we did not see an ounce of official work being done in New Orleans the entire time we were there. It's a complete ghost town in the parts of the city that were most affected by the levee breach - debris lines the streets, piles of toxic remains of homes and furnishings are everywhere, cars lie on top of cars, on top of roofs, upside down in the middle of the road, stray animals roam the streets (especially cats), every house is spray painted with codes of rescuers and searchers and they're dated 9/12 - almost two weeks after the hurricane hit, and it was the first time anyone official had checked to see if anyone needed help - basically, there's a shitload of work to be done. Yet we saw no work trucks, no clean-up crews, no FEMA people, no Red Cross people, no work being done anywhere. You could hear a pin drop 24 hours a day in the 9th ward. What we did see were mercenaries with machine guns guarding empty wealthy neighborhoods, residents cleaning out their toxic, flood-destroyed homes all alone or with the help of volunteers, neighborhoods that are still off limits because bodies are being found every day, Ms. Trudy finding her family photo albums, family Bible, her mother's china and Christmas ornaments covered in mud, waterlogged and destroyed, and so many people whose lives have been interrupted, trampled, lost, and changed forever. Everyone should go to New Orleans, take some supplies, lend a hand, and see for themselves the ineptitude and evil of our government contrasted with the strength and hope of oppressed people and communities. We should rebuild these neighborhoods and help people go home to reclaim the lives that have been so devalued by the government and much of America.

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