The Nonsense thread

[Cro.]

[Inappropriate_Responder]

some of my friends on my facebook and instagram

makes me sick.

 

[ALLWHITEPEOPLELOOKTHESAME]

i can't disown old friends just because i disapprove of their desperate pussy getting techniques.

[YearzOne]

[Drue_Down]

[Aumstarsbcf]

You're killing your father Larry.

[Aumstarsbcf]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Shittles..TasteTheAsshole]

 

 

 

 

 

[MedicineCabinet]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[MedicineCabinet]

 

 

 

 

 

[tot_poker]

[tot_poker]

[theprotester]

It took me all this time to get your user name.

 

Wild.

[MedicineCabinet]

 

 

 

 

[brothhalynch]

aca con la pintura

[YearzOne]

[Brickos]

[xen]

 

[bed framed]

It took me all this time to get your user name.

 

Wild.

 

 

 

[Inappropriate_Responder]

i was thinking of making a meme... maybe 3 to 4 panels?

 

first pic:

Biggie saying: "Plans to leave, throw the keys to Lil Cease -

 

second pic:

Pull the truck up front..."

 

 

third pic:

 

 

but then i got high

[Cool_Hand]

too soon?

[Inappropriate_Responder]

too soon?

 

[Inappropriate_Responder]

boner therapy

[Drue_Down]

[theprotester]

[tot_poker]

It took me all this time to get your user name.

 

Wild.

 

That means you're either toking too much, or not enough. :scrambled:

[theprotester]

Not at all, I think that could be the problem!

[therapy boobs]

[MOOGLE?]

pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffft

[MOOGLE?]

welp found what i was looking for.

 

Oh, ye of little faith. Are you sure you're not a police officer, Officer?

 

Nevertheless, here's the scoop, as best I can remember it..

 

1960 (or so) I lived in the South Park Addition, on Southwell Street. It was a working class white neighborhood---pretty rough even then. Ever seen the movie "The Outsiders?" Kind of like that. I haven't been back there in a long time, but trust me, it is a serious gang-banger hellhole now, about 99% black. The cops call it "The War Zone," because it was built right after WWII (1947) and a lot of the streets are named after WWII battles---Tarawa Street, Okinawa Blvd., Pelieu Street, etc., and also because there is constant gang warfare.

I went to Kelso Elementary School, a couple of blocks from my house.

 

A half mile or so west from my house was the Santa Fe "New South Yards" (now it's a BNSF yard, they dropped the "New" and it's just BNSF South Yard.) Behind a Fed-Mart store on Mykawa Road was the T&NO jungle (Texas & New Orleans) which had been there a long time. The T&NO Junction has been there well over 100 years. It's near the cormer of Griggs and Mykawa Road. The Fed-Mart long ago turned into a Fiesta Store. Where I-610 Loop is now was a huge empty field that went for miles east and west. It was land that had been purchased in the early 1950's for the I-610 Loop, part of the bypass which would allow military traffic on the Interstate to go around Houston. We played and built forts and tree houses, etc. in that big field. My friend Dusty and I used to spy on the hobos in the jungle behind the Fed-Mart store. They used the water faucet on the back of the store to get water, wash clothes, take a bath, etc.

 

The Santa Fe line that goes south out of New South Yards goes south to Virginia Point, and then across the Galveston Bay Causeway to Galveston's freight yards. When I was about 11 or so (1961), we hopped a slow-moving Santa Fe freight to Galveston in the middle of the night. Dusty, Gary, me and a couple of other kids whose names I cannot remember. Once we got on it, we were all scared shitless because we had no idea where it was going, and it did not stop until it got to Galveston. Where we got off is now a big grain elevator yard, full of grainers. I don't remember anything but boxcars back then, but I was just a kid. Shortly after we got off, another one headed back to Houston rolled north, and we got on that one and rode back to New South Yards, and got off about two blocks from our bicycles, hidden in a ditch.

 

My family sold the house on Southwell, and moved to a city within Houston called West University. Today, this is a very upscale, ritzy part of town, but back then it was a working-class suburb. I ran into a guy I knew from South Park, an older kid (16-17) named Denny. Denny's grandmother lived in Galveston. He spent the summers there, and had tried a new thing: surfing. The boards were long and heavy. The first board I ever saw was made of balsa wood covered with fibreglas (which was kind of new back then.) My parents would not buy me a board until I proved I could ride one. Denny taught me to surf "straight-off Adolph" style: no turns, no climbing and dropping. The summer of 1963, Denny worked at a surfboard rental stand on the beach next to the 25th Street pier, which has the Treasure Isle Hotel on it now. Across the street was the Surf Drive-In, where we ate lunch every day. I was in heaven. Because Denny worked there, I got to use surfboards for free, as long as I waxed them up for tourists. I spent all day surfing, scoping out the teenaged girls in bikinis, and helping tourists try to learn to surf. At the end of the summer, I bought a beat-up 9'6" "pop-out" (mass-produced) pintail from the surfboard rental business. The owner was getting rid of all the older, less attractive boards. It was a major piece of shit, but I was SO PROUD of it. It was so heavy (about 40 pounds) I could barely carry it if there was any breeze whatsoever.

I surfed winter ("shorty" beaver-tail wet suit) and summer every chance I got all through junior high school and well into high school. In 1964, my father and I built a board, 9'2", with a composition skeg, a built-up tail block and built-up nose blocks. The blocks were built of white pine and redwood, sandwiched together (this was popular then--today it's totally passe'.)

I got part-time jobs, first working at a Baskin-Robbins 31 Flavors ice-cream shop, then as a busboy at a Chinese restaurant. I saved all my wages and tips and bought a brand-new 9'6" three-stick Jacobs when I was 16. It cost $196, a HUGE amount of money back then for a high-school kid. That same board today would cost around $1400.

 

In 1967,two major things happened. My parents got divorced, and that summer, I went to California with several of my older surfing buddies. They were on a one-last-fling trip, before they had to report for duty to various branches of the military, mostly Navy or Air Force. My cousin was a ground-pounder in the Army, in Vietnam. We were worried sick he would get killed. The Vietnam War was in full swing. EVERYBODY was against it just about, especially anybody of draft age. It was the "Summer of Love" in San Francisco. When we got to S.F., it was overwhelming. We went to Haight-Ashbury, and it was like being in a carnival side show of freaks. I fell in love with being a hippie, smoking dope, the whole deal. It was like an entire neighborhood of runaway kids, and hardly a responsible adult to be found anywhere. People sold marijuana and LSD right out in the open. It was like "What cops? There ain't no cops." We were stunned. We went back to Southern California to a town called Encinitas, and stayed with a hippy commune called Noah's Vibrations (I swear this is true.) Because I was under age, I slept up on the flat roof of the commune with all the other kids younger than 18. We surfed all the spots in Encinitas, but especially Swami's and Stone Steps. we also used to drive south to Cardiff and surf there. Once in a while, we'd surf Cotton's Point or Trestle's, on the Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base. When the summer was over, all my best friends went into the service. I was really bummed out. When school started, just about everyone I knew was getting high, and participating in the anti-war movement. The leadership was from Students for a Democratic Society (SDS.) I joined a high-school group that mimicked SDS called SUDS (Student Union for Democratic Schools.) There were anti-war marches and protests all that winter, and major partying going on on the weekends.

 

Within SUDS, we met many SDS members (college kids) from University of Houston, St. Thomas University, Texas Southern University and so forth. They had an "underground" newspaper called Space City News. There were several "SDS" houses scattered around the city, especially in a new "hip" neighborhood that was more-or-less Houston's Haight-Ashbury, called "Montrose." At one of the SDS houses, I met anarchist college kids for the first time. The SDS house had a library made up of all the books the SDSers didn't want to haul home. They gave me a copy of The Floodgates of Anarchy, by Stuart Christie and Albert Meltzer, which I still have. I got the address of the Black Flag Group in London, and wrote them, asking if they knew Christie's address. Stuart wrote me back, and we started a correspondence. Here I was, 17 years old, corresponding with some of the best-known anarchists in the world! I guess it sounds lame ass now, but I was really excited to be accepted as an equal by these guys in London. I started trying to form a Houston anarchist group. I also corresponded with writers from Freedom!, the oldest continuously-publishing anarchist newspaper in the world.

 

I threw myself into the anti-war movement. Most of my friends were into "The Movement" too. We surfed Galveston, Freeport, Sargent Beach and Quintana Beach. Easter vacation, we went to South Padre Island, near the Mexican border. Every summer, I went surfing in California with various groups of friends, all through high-school. I was not a good student, and had to do an extra semester to graduate. I got out of school in 1969. My girlfriend and I ran away to California (where I had lots of contacts) and wound up camping for most of the summer in Pfieffer Big Sur. We hitch-hiked all over. I had already had a big confrontation with the draft board in Houston, and had applied for conscientious objector status. I got a passport, and was preparing to go to Canada if they denied me C.O. status. My girlfriend and I broke up at the end of summer. She went to Austin, to the University of Texas. I was accepted as a C.O., and went to work in a rehabilitation hospital, taking care of paralyzed men and boys. I worked there for two years, and during that time was organizing and trying to build a bigger anti-war movement. I met some guys from the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW.) They were philosophically about as close to anarchists as anybody I had found. The IWW is pretty much an anarcho-syndicalist union. We had an anarchist group of about fifteen people, of varying ages and committment levels. I joined the IWW when I was 20.

 

In 1971 (I think) President Richard Nixon ended the Draft. All of us in the Houston anti-war movement were sort of stunned. It was like disbelievingly "We won?" The U.S. removed all troops from Vietnam in 1972, but almost immediately after Nixon ended the Draft, the anti-war movement just completely disappeared. Boom. Overnight. We would go to a demonstration, and where we had thousands a month before, it would be the same 250 radicals. The Communists over here. The Trotskyists over there, the Democratic Socialists in a third group, and a little knot of anarchists. Virtually no "regular people," just "activists." Where the fuck did everybody go? I finally had to accept a bitter truth---they were only interested in their own selves. They didn't give a shit about Vietnam, the Vietnamese people who were being slaughtered by the million, or "fighting the system." It was all about me, Me, ME. The "Me" Generation had arrived. I was fucking furious.

 

More later.

 

 

http://www.12ozprophet.com/forum/showthread.php?t=101087

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

p.s dubsface's ass