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by Jack Suss<\/p>\n
President Trump looked\u00a0strong\u00a0and sounded resolute in his recent 46-minute \u201cmost important speech ever.\u201d In fact, the POTUS was downright presidential in this masterful delivery of his address to the American People\u2014a far cry from the Biden-Harris clown show that has been garnering yelps of support from the weak-willed appeasers among us. You know, those namby-pamby fools recommending that we accept this massive election fraud as legitimate by accepting\u00a0as our new leaders\u00a0its cheater-in-chief, that dementia-ridden mannequin figurehead clone-puppy corruptocrat and his cackling vulgar underling.<\/span><\/p>\n No, Biden\u2019s boot says-it-all. If still living (and not just some cloned-Joe bio-android with a bad ear job) Biden\u2019s living on borrowed time. His traitorous crimes overseas have made him a national disgrace and a definite security nightmare who could never step into the Oval Office, let alone be given access to the nuclear codes and other serious presidential prerogatives. No, under that boot the dude\u2019s wearing an ankle bracelet as a prelude to his long-awaited and overdue perdition. Case closed\u2026almost. Don\u2019t get me started on his illustrious cast of evil cabinet\u00a0 clowns.<\/p>\n Rendition of the guilty, lower-hanging fruit has been in full swing over these past weeks. That\u2019s the sense I have from watching the clips of those observing the flight paths of military planes coming and going overhead. These sky-rangers are \u201crotten fruit pressers\u201d who used to work by the\u00a0Cider House Rules<\/em>\u00a0but now relish being on \u201ca mission from God.\u201d I\u2019ll make an educated guess: like Rowdy Yates and Co. from a\u00a0Rawhide<\/em>\u00a0episode, there\u2019s a round-up going on by a kick-ass round-\u2018em-up bunch who love the smell of napalm in the morning\u2014special ops who are scooping up coup operatives, squeezing them for intel, putting the fear of God into them, and then putting them back out\u00a0on long leashes<\/em>. I hope so, anyway.<\/p>\n In the meantime, I keep thinking about those senate run-off races yet-to-come but so-close-at-hand in Georgia. When I look at Stacy Abrams, that horror show, guerilla blimp agent from the Deep State (who lots of idiots seem to actually take seriously)\u2014I can\u2019t help but wonder, in a temporary wonder-of-wonders state, how and why anyone would listen to her lippy drip. Is she the one organizing a million absentee ballots for the run-off? Who cares? I don\u2019t. But then, how is it she is being taken seriously at all? I conclude that the bozo driving this bus is yet another bit-player-nightmare Democrats have served up, all hot and steaming, for the delight of radicals and the utter disgust of common folk out there with any sense left in us. (Didn\u2019t I run across her bio somewhere in Frederick Seidel\u2019s book of poems entitled\u00a0Ooga-Booga<\/em>? Maybe not.) But if Dominion voting machines will be used yet again, and we add a dash\u2014if possible\u2014of Abrams, then this does not bode well for anything vaguely approaching an honest run-off election. Stay tuned for that one.<\/p>\n Ol\u2019 lard ass Bill Barr takes the cake as SES protector. It seems his latest gig is a reprise to his old job: running cover for the Clinton crime family and legal fixer for George H.W. But then, maybe my cynicism is getting the better of me. After all, he plays a mean bagpipe and throws a helluva party each year, one that includes on its guest list a host of heirloom players of this arcane instrument that\u2019s meant to call up dead-Brit-like-ancestor-warriors. Maybe it was an affection for the Scot in him that convinced Pres. Trump to give Bill one last chance to redeem himself as a\u00a0real<\/em>\u00a0AG this time. But Mr. BB has a way of getting lodged in the backsides of patriots all across the old 13 colonies and beyond because he can\u2019t seem to \u201ccatch the coon at last\u201d with his fidgety, floppity, hop-like-a-bunny inability to throw down the gauntlet once and for all so as to bring down the big hammer of justice on the celebrity-traitors-with-book-deals, et al. Or is our AG bloviator only lulling the guilty into a hypnotic-induced sense of refuge-from-the-Storm before slamming-those-slime? You be the judge, er, jury, but give Bagpipe Billy a reprieve for a number of weeks more before passing judgment.<\/p>\n Is anyone else out there wanting to upchuck on the TV when watching state bureaucrats getting all squishy-as-they-squirm during Guiliani\u2019s traveling dog and pony show? The hearings are necessary. But they’re a little weird and wacky at times. Enough said on that, for now. But before we go, there\u2019s also another side-show going on: the wordy L. Lin Wood gospel-tent-revival-for-justice. Though I like his take-no-prisoners stance and scathing denunciations of public servant slime, there\u2019s something just a bit unsavory there that I can\u2019t quite put my fickle-finger-of-fate on. He\u2019s doing God\u2019s work, all right, but will the heathen judges take up this preacher-lawyer\u2019s injunctions and issue proper and lawful decrees? Again, stay tuned.<\/p>\n One last thing needs lampooning before I ride off into the sunset like that masked man of yore, The Lone Ranger. If I hear any more about \u201cCOVID\u201d from the radio, TV (including news shows, commercials, etc.), from online articles and videos\u2014or from any source, anywhere on planet Earth\u2014I think I\u2019m going to just shrivel-up-und-die. I mean it: STOP INCESSANTLY TALKING ABOUT IT, all you corporate cronies and other talking heads out there. I\u2019m convinced if we just stop talking about it, it will go away\u2014like The Lone Ranger at the end of each episode disappearing over the hill (or as in being chased off by Lenny Bruce, in his 1971 comedy skit,\u00a0Thank You, Masked Man<\/em>). I\u2019m sure of it, just as I am 100% sure that we\u2019ll have four more great years of PDJT!<\/p>\n ___________________________________________<\/p>\n *\u00a0STUBBY\u00a0 KNUCKLES\u00a0 BACK\u00a0 IN\u00a0 THE D.C. AREA<\/p>\n Stubby in 1996<\/p><\/div>\n Copyright \u00a9 2005 by Almost Slim, Jr.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/stateofthenation.co\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/12\/Stub.png\")
Itinerant bluesman piano player and singer, Stubby Knuckles, is around town again tickling the ivories.\u00a0 His style is reminiscent of the traditional Chicago blues piano sound of Otis Spann or of Memphis Slim with a New Orleans twist.<\/h4>\n
Stubby played in New Orleans\u2019 French Quarter and at the Tipitina\u2019s piano bar in the twilight years of Professor Longhair.\u00a0\u00a0There, in 1980, he opened up for John Lee Hooker and rubbed shoulders with other blues luminaries.\u00a0\u00a0After New Orleans, the Knuckleman spent time in Chicago, making the acquaintance of Sunnyland Slim and Jimmy Dawkins, among others.\u00a0\u00a0The Alabama bluesman and gambler, Big Chief Ellis (Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee\u2019s old piano player) was also a big influence.\u00a0\u00a0He\u2019s played with Black Top recording artist Bobby Radcliff and has shared the stage with Jerry Portnoy, member of the late Muddy Waters\u2019 Legendary Blues Band and the harp player on Eric Clapton\u2019s\u00a0From The Cradle<\/em>\u00a0blues CD.<\/h4>\n
Almost (but not quite) famous by association, Mr. Knuckles continues to be one of the biggest unknowns in the world\u2019s underground blues circuit.\u00a0\u00a0\u201cI never practice,\u201d says Stubby, \u201cdoing that would take off that raggedy edge, that falling apart sound.\u00a0\u00a0I\u2019m a time-breaker\u2014that\u2019s the blues.\u201d<\/h4>\n
\u00a0Often feeling like he is doomed to live the scruffy life of a bluesman, Stubby laments, \u201cMost people think blues is all about \u2018getting drunk and losing your baby.\u2019 It is. But it\u2019s much more than that too.\u00a0 It\u2019s all about reaching way down deep into a wellspring of optimism to find some peace in this crazy world.\u00a0 By and large, life\u00a0is<\/em>\u00a0suffering.\u00a0 And blues music represents a way of life that urges us to\u00a0be<\/em>\u00a0and\u00a0become<\/em>\u00a0something simpler, better and stronger \u2013 in spite of ourselves.\u00a0 How\u2019s that for stating a case for the blues?\u201d\u00a0Stubby hastens to add, \u201cFor me, blues is not just the backbone of jazz or the granddaddy of rock\u2018n\u2019roll but slithers around through everything, from old country tunes to lounge lizard classics and even into the dementia of Tom Lehrer. Blues is the soulful, animating essence of sound, heartfelt meaning adorning the beauty of silence.\u201d<\/h4>\n
\u201cI grew up here in the DC area,\u201d says Stubby, \u201cin Friendship Heights, before it became Rodeo Drive East.\u00a0\u00a0I have a love\/hate relationship with this cesspool of soulless prattle.\u00a0\u00a0If you leave here for any length of time and get a feel for what life is like \u2018outside the Beltway,\u2019 you\u2019ll find out there\u2019s hope for humanity.\u00a0\u00a0Still, the microcosmic cultural ecology of family and friends can always brighten the dullest of spots. So here I am again\u201d<\/h4>\n
When Stubby’s in town and on the 88s, you’ll always be in good hands. He always guarantees two fistfuls of the blues. Look out: Stubby\u2019s back (and he writes a mean op-ed too)!<\/h4>\n