Reflection

The Gonzo Journals

April 29th, 2023

Well, it’s been a week since I was pooped on by a major corporation who was/is unable to tell the difference between fiction and fact. Yes, these are grown adults who make a hefty salary to make decisions on public safety. I’m sure they believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the fact that three bolts in the roller coaster track is enough to get by even when the blueprints call for four. It’s all about image, right? Your casual rider can’t see that high and trusts you to make the right decision. They’re clueless that the powers that be are trusting the coaster fairy to make things right.

Oh, the things I can tell you about that place which never made the news…

Scary things…

Regardless, it’s been a week. Who has reached out?

The horror community. In droves, minus a few select individuals.

Who hasn’t reached out?

The publisher of Starving Zoe

Six Flags

Six Flags CEO

Local News Anchors

The mayor of the city of Arlington

Local magazines I’ve written for in the past

Today, justice only belongs to billionaires and politicians, unless said justice is against them, then they get to skirt the issue to avoid punishment. My local government has made it to where you can have your life squashed at the drop of a hat for no reason whatsoever. There are things happening slowly behind the scenes but, until those answers arrive, my only choice is to tighten my belt, put one foot in front of the other, and walk toward the next adventure.

Was this entire scenario just a lesson? Do we, as artists, hide our private lives for the sake of financial well-being? Are the corporate stiffs just jealous of our talents because of the attention it brings us? Sure, most of them I’ve met couldn’t get laid if they crawled up a chicken’s ass and waited, but is that any reason to squash the dreamer’s vision?

We have a problem in this country when we will sell a destructive weapon to any idiot who wants one but think it’s ok to treat everyone like total shit for the sake of being rude. How do we cure the gun problem in this country? Don’t sell an assault rifle to a mental patient all covered in his own shit who talks to himself all day without a blu tooth receiver stuck in his ear. Also, and this is less difficult, just be fucking nicer to each other. I know this paragraph is just a bit out of place in this blog, but my wife just told me about a shooting not far away from here where a father confronted a loud partier because his children were trying to sleep. In turn, that loud partier shot and killed the man and his whole family. For asking him to turn down the music? Have we forgotten how to communicate with one another unless there is a keyboard barrier between the two individuals in question?

Then again, I guess this is relevant.

Not once was I confronted face to face to sign any paperwork or for the corporation to hear my side. They didn’t really even allow me a chance to explain. Why? Because they had the comfort of hiding behind their phone, puffing up their balls, and playing the aggressor. I hope it made them feel strong. I hope they walked over to the water cooler after firing me, grabbed a disposable cup like a man with an agenda, took the shot as though it were Jack Daniels, aimed at a nearby garbage pail to go for the three pointer, and fucking missed. Chode.

I really appreciate everyone’s support over the past week, but now is not the time for this situation to fade away into obscurity. My pain doesn’t need to be the Facebook flavor of the week. We, as a community, need to stand tall and be aggressive toward situations like this. It’s going to happen again and it’s going to happen soon. It may very well be an author you really like. Hell, it may even be YOU.

In my youth, only the strong survived and were celebrated. Somewhere along the line, the weaker among our species figured out that money and technology allowed them a safe harbor to lash out at the strong without repercussion. Now, real people who strive to do good things fall victim to the ill willed who hide behind their keyboards, telephones, and social media anonymity. They are virtually playing the role of the bully they never had the balls to physically stand up to in grade school, and there isn’t shit we can do about it.

Stand tall, stand together, and goddammit, just fucking STAND! I, for one, am tired of sitting. My ass is sore and for all the wrong reasons. Hypothetically speaking, of course. It’s an exit only. Cute at my age, but an exit only. Ok, maybe for a one-night experimental thing if you promise not to tell anyone. At least buy me dinner first.

Peace.