Bff Reports... 006: Earnest Tubb Lives!!!*

Black-footed Ferret Reports:

Ernest Tubb Lives!!!

Dispatch 6 from DumbFuck Nation, United States of Absurdia

Despite being severely over-medicated from the treatment the night before, at the crack of dawn the Black-footed ferret was moving on… New Orleans, Louisiana – my beacon of sanity – the destination. Before I leave anywhere, I look around the van and I look at a map before I pull away. I noticed a grey road Highway 247 cutting straight across the desert back to Highway 258. It looked bleak, lonely and shall I say, deserted. I thought that would be a good idea at the time. After a long early morning search through Corona, I couldn’t even find the road. Common sense once again, thankfully, returned and led me to decide to backtrack a little to the town of Vaughn, back to 258.

Back at the convenience store that sold me the warm Budweiser, they now serve lukewarm coffee. I needed two large extra kickass caffeines to offset the Corona Treatment. The two young ladies manning the store were enchanting and chatty. I needed that. While getting my Double Whammy, a woman appears around the corner with a scuba mask and green Playtex gloves. She comes across me unexpectedly and back pedals into the Hostess Twinkie rack. I paid my bill and had a little wink and nod with the young ladies and went to my car. Looking around the vehicle I noticed she parked six feet away from me, pick-up truck, naturally. Settling in with my quart of go-go juice, looking at the map, out of the store comes Very Safe Woman. As she takes her PPE off and opens the truck door, out of back cab pop two 80 pound Boxer dogs more than willing to lick her sweaty face. And she was more than happy to let them. This is in Vaughn, New Mexico. Heckuva lot of space out there, a little virus or two would be lost in the mix. 

Roswell was in the way, so I thought Why Not? All the UFO blah, blah I have ingested, I always imagined a sleepy, dusty town. It’s a sizable city, with a whole downtown strip dedicated to the Grey image. They all look like Crowley’s LAM, nothing new under the sun. I drove on, through Carlsbad and everything else New Mexico had to offer. I found the PSA radio reports by the female Governor chilling in its 1984 demeanor. 

I rolled into West Texas… Driving across Texas is like hearing Ernest Tubb sing “Miles and Miles of Texas” 12,000,000 times in a row. I found it interesting Oil Field Workers don’t seem to be able to contract the virus. Things were humming right along with Big Pick-‘em Up Trucks were zooming all over the place. Large enclave of ‘Man-camps’ – that’s what they called them, close together modular housing, they still don’t get sick, amazing. Finally, I came upon civilization, but still under Judge Roy Bean’s laws, a Love’s truck stop in Pecos. As I was parking into my space, three young field hands going to lunch pass in front of my van. “Go back to California”, one of them says kiddingly, I didn’t take offense and played along. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me back.” It got a chuckle and they moved on. I said it like I meant it. The front plate came off soon after. 

The lady at the counter wouldn’t take my two bucks and gives me my coffee for free. It took until I got back to the van, she didn’t want to handle my ‘infected’ money. What a sad world we live in. The day of the ‘friendly American’ has gone the way of the dodo. Not much to report after that, as I drove and I drove, Earnest not far away in my mind, finding a rest stop along the way. Tomorrow I’ll be in the French Quarter. Always has been a good place for confused, stressed out alcoholics. 

Gov Lies… TV Lies… NPR Lies… Lies… Lies… Lies 

Dispatch 7 of the Black-footed ferret Reports in DumbFuck Nation coming soon…

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