Easter Sunday has come and gone at the Spirit of Suwanee Music Park and the hushed rumors that the man, known simply to his fraternity brothers as “Thatch” was arriving at camp in time for Wanee, once again proved to be nothing more than irresponsible tabloid fiction. The harsh reality was much closer to the ragged truth that all men spend their lives desperately trying to skirt. Was there a real reason to be on edge or was it just fabricated gibberish that found it’s way to the surface of the brain hole? Be forewarned colorful nomad, recent shifts in the tectonic plates that twist and rumble under the white sand of the Suwannee River have heralded the 14th coming of the Wanee Festival and something almost undecipherable in the tea leaves and pig bones are saying, “Prepare thyself innocent children, for the third coming of Thatcher Owen Mullins.”
Tempting as usual…never forget.
You’re best in your body, right here, rest assured
Lesser your humor, more your regret
Swim-wiggling around pre-caught on allure
With mad love at the bottom I’d surely bet
With madness at bottom I’d surely bet.
Moby Allen Manu Naske was riding the greyhound from Minneapolis to Iowa City. He had traveled from the Kenai. Bus the whole way. Puking at will, puking on command. That was what he did. Puke on command.
Having only dim wit and this regurgitive ability, his future roads were crow swept sidelong. He made his road a scarecrow.
When did the truth ever help? Suffer with the guilt
Thatcher Owen Mullins here with The Short Report. Once again brought to you by the fine folks that distill the beautiful blue agave into my morning.
The first wave of honeybuckets, aka porta potties, aka you get it, have been delivered. White limechalk lines have been drawn showing hippy heathens and other brothers and sisters where they may park and camp. No one is budging in line yet, but we’re getting close to the chaos event horizon here…spaghetti brained again with pure and unadulterated loveshinestupid.
Foxtrot romeo delta niner out
As he sharpened our knife blades down by the riverbank he would often tell the tale:
“That old sun showed up early for work again and blasted it’s merry song through the pine trees and fog. Lunchbox was stirred from his painted nap, half-submerged in the festering mudhole. His arms, colorfully tattooed with insectae bites of every genus, lifted him from his slop coffin and he desperately searched for a shirt and what was left of the strawberry-lime moonshine.
Welcome to the machine. There was a delicate time when this article was destined to be lost and forgotten somewhere down the hidden halls of literary debacle. Foretold was it’s demise in the ancient scripts of the forgotten army and now we say, “Fate be damned, it will be finished for spite’s sake”. Wanee Festival 2017 is behind us now and the guilty have all been judged and found wanting. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Sometimes weird things happen to good people. Is there such a thing as too much funk? What could ever entice, otherwise healthy, hillbillies to throw themselves from the roofs of their own vans into neighboring tents? That breed of bent animal only understands the fist or the boot. You try to burn them out with noise but they just collapse into their ghetto vans and use sub-woofer pillows to pound Pink Floyd into their broken brains.”
Several Points To Disregard:
- Exit Strategy/Passport: When the sled gets heavy and the wolves start getting bold, it may just come down to testing the milk of your friendship with your toe. Perhaps the irresponsible slinging of diet pills has painted you into the proverbial corner of the forest and the voices surrounding you have finally managed to triangulated your position. How are you getting out of the bubble? Always have an exit strategy in mind before the shooting begins. Best to walk before they make you run.
- First Aid: This is what it looks like when chiggers meet with poison ivy. Have you ever had your toe nearly ripped off by a rabid pit bull after intercepting an errant frisbee toss? The toe holds quite a bit of blood juice. The witch-man said you could smash up Spanish needle and slather it all over your bites and stings. It’s still a good idea to work with a competent pharmacist. Hydration is important for proper cell function. Yes, that is definitely infected.
- Respect: It’s not for everyone. Have you ever had a child call you a dougebag? Not a good sign. Respect would be paid by Bob Weir and Trey Anastasio as they guided their guitars through a rambunctious “Deep Elem Blues” and Bob and the Campfire Boys rocked the terra during their two sets at the field stage. There’s nothing more fun than watching Deadheads and Bobby fans twist and twirl to such Grateful Dead classics as Shakedown and Darkstar. The night was ripe with numerous “perfect moments” and hippies still make some of the best dancers.
Anomaly…the unscrewing of your head from your neck…the stringing together of many run on sentences…the failure to prepare yourself for an almost certain future fubar situation…your mind writing checks your body cannot cash…the inability to feel emotion….a ticketless festivarian hiding in a tent, sweating both the inevitability of being found out first and thrown out next…as well as the 93 degree Florida sunshine…believing your own lies…giving away your soul for free. Saying no to a pull off the shine bottle in the morning.
- Reality Sets In: There are two types of people in the world. There are those who call the law for help and those who don’t. I broke my own code today and finally called a cop, if only to turn myself in. If I didn’t do it, who would? Thatch? I think not.
- Lies and Omissions: His resume said that he was a legitimate photographer. Apparently, he lied on every answer except “gender”. Under “race” he listed “Pacific Islander” and he was from Kansas. He didn’t even have a camera when he showed up to take photographs of the festival. I asked for a reasonable explanation and he just stared right through me with those little yellow eyes. You could always tell when he was sizing you up like a Mississippi blue ribbon pork cutlet. He professed to work with a different type of equipment. It seems, his preferred photography gear was the one-handed paper towel camera. It could take high resolution photographs while appearing to create a phantom hole in the user’s hand. They were at least as good as the Wanee festival photos taken by the rest of the photo staff. The examples above represent a few of the choicest picks.
The travel team heads north tomorrow, in an effort to escape the sunshine state, for Live Oak and another ride on Mr. T’s Georgia Moonshine Express. After that, it’s a three month trek right through in search of more Bob Weir with the Dead and Company Summer Tour. Stay tuned for Moosemilk’s vaporous account of the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park exit strategy.
The stink of ozone and the sharp metallic taste means you’ve just been struck by white lightning.