Roseburg

Its native son physician who became the governor shacked up with the pretty social climber who turned out to have been involved in a sham marriage to an Ethiopian gentleman who was interested in obtaining a Green Card. The governor then got into trouble because his new squeeze had NOT fucked the Abyssinian, and they both got into worse trouble on account of the no-bid state contracts that had the governor had awarded to his cohabitant, provoking the inauguration of the state’s first openly bisexual governor. Meanwhile, back home, the dual-national mulatto misfit with the decidedly highbrow English hyphenated surname and the decidedly less highbrow county seat tenement accommodations with his mother got a bit weirder than usual and shot up the community college that was attended by one of the three guys who had been awarded the Legion of Honor for bumrushing the allahu akbar Colin Ferguson wannabe on the fast train to Paris, while, in possibly unrelated news, his fellow train vigilante ended up in the UC Davis hospital for trying to stop an Elk Grove Cambodian bruiser from smacking his girlfriend around on a public street in Sacramento’s premier drinking district for rich white trash of all races.

One must say, Poirot, two out of three is not bad.

Why the fuck am I here, then? As they say on Facebook, it’s complicated. Much less complicated are the circumstances giving rise to the alarmingly high density of seedy cryptoresidential motels around here. That can be explained by a combination of “not enough public housing,” “dey took err jerbs,” and, “yeah, but yinz also took all your own trees, geniuses.” Douglas County is notable among Oregon counties for having pissing matches with the federal government over the flow of railroad/forestry/not enough forestry block grants from the imperial center to the rundown periphery. If Mama Sugar won’t give it up because non-White white people are harvesting the Indians’ ancestral forests as part of a baroque land-swap deal with the railroad system that the Florida venture capital outfit refused to repair and bring back into service because it was too busy extending credit to Michael Jackson for the ongoing operation of Neverland, maybe Mama Sugar can be induced to give it up because crackers are running flat out of trees and/or the cavalier extremist attitudes towards local wildlife that rednecks cultivate only when White white people won’t stop being maliciously cavalier about their livelihoods as provincial tradesmen. TL;DR: Peter DeFazio had better do something to hook a honky up with that sugar sweet right now, but only if local the administrative and business elites are allowed to waste it suitably so that excessive public services are not scandalously provided directly to no-account losers who didn’t stay in school, but no, that doesn’t mean we’ll vote for that tax-and-spend liberal bastard.

Okay, that wasn’t so much tl;dr as Wow Much Words. Shit.

In fairness, I’m writing this from one of the nicer parts of Roseburg, of which there are some, but this city sure seems to have a lot of shit housing stock for one of its size. I saw two skid row-looking cold homeless guys on the streets in Canyonville this afternoon just on my way to and from the rest area. One guy had a shopping cart full to its meniscus with the pile of his collected shitnits. Rural communities are not self-inoculating against urban pathologies. Say it again. Meditate upon it. Cherish this truth in your heart. Maybe it will inspire you to establish usable mass transit and put unemployed tradesmen back to work building decent housing for people who need decent housing.

Another day, another shithole that’s nowhere near any of the vaguely nearby shitholes that might be less shitty. Kyrie eleison on the road that we must travel–assuming that we have a car by which to travel it. Greyhound will bankrupt a cracker around here, but there’s little enough of it that the monopoly fares are basically a moot point anyway. I maintain escape plans in these places. Many who live in them genuinely cannot do anything of the sort. It’s just too difficult. But for the grace of God some of us have not joined them. By the sheer vicious gracelessness of this nation that loudly claims his most abundant blessings, sometimes with evidence but more often against it, any number of us might be thrown into that same pit against our will.

Why in all hell am I wandering into a discussion of free will, faith, and the chronic absenteeism from the troubled parts of his creation of a supposedly caring but all too transcendent God? I’m surrounded by half a dozen valleys and, dare I say, God only knows how many hills abundantly colonized by voters who can’t even define “small government” to exclude chronic aggressive dependency on the federal government, which is a form of big government.

You may not have expected to hear of things that make even less sense than the governor’s mistress-turned-fiancee’s Ethiopian sham husband and the troubled half-English mulatto who shot up one of the whitest, least immigrant towns in the Americas, but sometimes #TheMoreYouKnow, the less you understand. You probably didn’t expect any of this if you came here for Dubai Porta Potty or Pot-o-Shit Friend content, either, so some of you are hitting far above par on the course of life already.

May we all. Just don’t count on Garrison Keillor to pray for those of us who live in Deplorable Country.

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