OK guys, here we go, best foot forward, to heck with the trolls, we're better trolls than they are.
I can't comment much about Greg Jackson, never met the guy, missed this morning's broadcast. But Ernie Hancock on the other hand, I can talk a bit about. He's a cat of a different color if ever there was one.
I'll share an inside bit of history. I was involved pretty much in this project called "R3VOLUTION March" a couple of years ago and I lobbied hard to get Ernie and Gary Franchi involved. Gary was a piece of cake. Ernie, OMFG, what a prima-donna. Everything was like "I get total creative latitude no matter what". And we were totally concilatory. But Ernie has to push every thing to the Nth level and he eventually, and I'm serious, he said he would only do the job if we gave him a t-shirt that said "SPECIAL AGENT NOT IN CHARGE".
I was like "you are totally serious about this aren't you?"
Ernie was like "dead serious, I'm not doing this gig without the t-shirt and all the rest inclusive".
So I showed up in DC with the whole family in tow, but above all, I was the Bearer Of The T-Shirt that made all the magic happen.
Now wait, it gets better. This whole creative lattitude thing Ernie wanted, it manifested in a big way. Ernie had his own marketing and infowar thing going. And they passed out a million gazillion flyers with THE WRONG START PLACE AND START TIME. I was temporarily so mad at him, I was seething, I could have grabbed him by his laundered Oxford cloth shirt and stragled him with my bare hands but when it's Ernie, what are you gonna do?
I could kill him or I could let him live but the one thing I know is I can't change him or stop him or alter him in any way. And every single person in the movement in AZ knows that Ernest Hancock is a pure force of nature. So it might well look like there are only two ways to go: get behind him or get swept away like the brush in our arroyos when the spring rains come. To push the analogy, after the devastating torrent of spring rains (our monsoon season) comes through and destroys everthing in it's path, all these cool and pretty flowers and plants grow and it's nice season in the high desert with all these cool and pretty flowers.
Like Sharon Davis. And Brock and the dusty, lusty Frosty (Frostomeister) and such odball scientists as Arclein. Where the hell did we get Arclein from? We always had a place for another mad scientist, but Arclien RATES. And 4409? Easter bunnies putting huge ass paper mache eggs on top of speed cameras? Come on, you can't, nobody would even think of this except "us".
Whatever "us" is, I'm pretty sure we're it. Whatever it us we're supposed to do, this is us doing it. And whatever freedom looks like, I'm pretty confident that it looks like whatever it us we're doing.
The kickass thing about the AZ scene is we're all leaders and we're all followers. It's almost like we're just dancing to the same music. And there's no wrong way to dance. Just shake that thang the way it makes you feel good. If it's groovy, people will dance and groove. Music in the desert. 3VOL in dry land.
Surprised? Kokapelli dances and plays his flute, following the hot sun over the desert both now and in all times past. Forever and ever and ever. And as long as there is a sun and a Southwest, this will remain true forever and ever and ever.
And ever and ever.
What the eyes of the iguana sees,
What the eyes of the scorion sees.
What the nose of the rattle snake percieves
As they hide and see
From their positions under rotting leaves and trees.