Category Archives: Wolf Tales

Steve Bannon Looks Like…

On Thursday, the 20th, the political world received a shock when Steve Bannon, former campaign manager to Donald Trump, was arrested on tax fraud charges.  Okay, maybe not too many were shocked.  I mean, Bannon is the 10th former Trump official to be indicted on something.  Bannon has been charged with personally using money from a non-profit intended to build a massive wall on the U.S. border with México – you know, the wall for which México was supposed to pay.  Adding to the elitist irony of it all, Bannon was taken into custody aboard a yacht owned by an exiled Chinese billionaire.

But it’s Bannon’s mug shot that has elicited a slew of raucously crass comments.  Any mug shot – which are just one step above driver’s license photos – always makes for a few good laughs.  Looking at Bannon’s pic incurred all sorts of unsavory images in the Chief’s perpetually disturbed mind.

Hence, Steve Bannon’s mug shot makes him look like:

  • The creepy old guy at the end of the bar who keeps winking at you.  (I’ve been on both ends.)
  • A man enduring a midlife crisis stepping into a Ferrari dealership while his wife is at a church retreat.
  • A Walmart greeter.
  • Fellow blogger and my brother in creatively mental instability Art Browne. (Love you, buddy!)
  • A refugee from Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville”.
  • Any drunk at a Waffle House between midnight and 4 a.m.
  • A headshot for a reverse mortgage commercial.
  • Jerry Garcia’s missing twin.
  • An NFL referee.
  • Any 1980s-era televangelist.
  • A 1980s-era rock star fresh out of rehab.
  • A 1970s-era porn star fresh out of rehab.
  • Any number of homeless men I used to see on the streets of downtown Dallas – only more pathetic.
  • The old man who asks, “Want some candy?”
  • The Chief at age 70.  Oh God, how terrifying!

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Vintage Mature

As the nation’s population matures (e.g. grows older), I’ve learned we have a need to address our elders in more respectful terms.  For one thing, we don’t refer to them any longer as “elders.”

The Chief hereby has created a number of more appropriate terms to refer to…well, the aged.

  • A record in 78rpm – still producing great music!
  • A 1965 Buick Riviera: hard-bodied, beautiful symmetrical lines and a finely-tuned engine.
  • An 1896 Stanley Steamer – original and classic.
  • Hurricane Camille – dangerous, yes, but you set the standard for power.
  • A 12th century Germanic castle – you’re battered and cracked, but still standing strong and steady.
  • A 50-year-old oak tree – you’ve been here for so long, but you give the best shade.
  • An ancient Mayan pyramid – buried beneath centuries’ worth of jungle growth, but you’re still here and impressive!
  • A 5,000-year-old Chinese vase – large and cumbersome, but still gorgeous, ornate and looking great in the sunlight!
  • A corner diner people have visited for decades – still there and always serving great food.
  • A 1995 Microsoft pc…ok, maybe not a good reference.
  • That old red brick home at the end of the street – people have called you the spooky house because you’ve always been there, but they just don’t know how wonderful you really are.
  • A grand hotel – filled with love and memories and more than a few stories to put people in their place.
  • The Grand Canyon – a little wide and rugged, but still strong and vibrant.
  • A giant redwood – old, yes; craggy, yes; but nothing has knocked you down!
  • A 19th century decanter set – been here so long people forget how beautiful and vital you really are.
  • A quilt grandmother made – you’re not just meant to sit in the closet; you keep us warm and feeling loved!
  • A book published a lifetime ago – a bit tattered and wrinkled, but always providing some good tales.
  • An early motion picture – okay, black and white with no sound; yet amazing and marvelous.
  • A Roman aqueduct – seemingly old and useless, but the fools don’t know you!
  • Earth’s moon – yes, ancient and far away, but still here and still vital.

My Yorx electronic clock/radio that my parents bought for me when I began high school in 1978.  It still functions, and I still use it!  Over the past 20 years I’ve gone through 4 cell phones.

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Stuck

Why can’t I move?  I just can’t move!  It’s like I’m glued to this bed.  With the VCR playing.  VCR?  And a porn video.  Really?  At this time of…what time is it?

I have no idea what’s going on.  Why am can’t I move?  What stupid video is playing?  On a VCR?!  I didn’t know I had a TV in my bedroom.  Why the fuck can’t I move?!

And – oh, what the hell!  There’s a naked man standing over there!  Who the – ?!  Who is he?!  Who are you?!  Standing here in my bedroom!  Butt-ass naked!  What the – ?!

At some other time, that would be a fantasy come to life.  O the start of some cheesy porn film.  Speaking of porn…what the hell is going on here?!

What’s happening?!
I can’t believe this!

I can’t move!

I’m stuck here in my own bed!  What the fuck is that all about?!  Why can’t I move?!

I mean…

That’s utterly terrifying.

Imagine that.

You’re in your own bed – and you can’t fucking move!

What else could go wrong?

I have enough shit in my life.

Now this!

I can’t move!

In my own bed!

I’m thirsty.

Great.  I’m thirsty, while laying down, and I can’t get up.  What else can go wrong?

It’s hot in here.

Thirsty and warm.

And stuck in my own bed.

A porn movie playing – on a VCR.

Naked man standing against the wall.

He’s not even looking at me.  Come on, dude!  You’re in my bedroom – sans clothes – and you don’t have the decency to look at me?!

How rude!
I can’t move!

Why can’t I move?

What is going on here?

I’m struggling…squirming…practically bouncing up and down in my own bed.

Trying to get up.

To move.

What’s going on?

Why do I feel paralyzed?

In my own bed.

What an awful feeling.

How is there a TV in my bedroom?

I didn’t move a TV in my bedroom.

With a VCR player.

A VCR!

Aha!

Okay…finally.  I can move.

What the – ?

Okay, I can move.

Wow.

What was that all about?

Okay…fully awake now.

Wow.

My head is hurting.

Okay…what was that all about?

Why did I have that…dream?

I guess.

That’s what it was…right?

A dream.

I don’t know.

I can’t tell.

So weird.

What was that all about?

Why couldn’t I move?

A porn film!

On a VCR!

I don’t have a TV in my bedroom!

What was that?!

Why did that happen?

Why couldn’t I even move?

In my own bed!

What was that all about?

Who was that man?

And why is he still here in my bedroom?

Lying on the floor!

Dead.

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Men Are Dogs

Most straight women will agree with this title.

One of my best friends, Pablo, and I have one of those unique friendships.  I think he’s think; he thinks I’m built like a Greek god.

But, like most men, we consider ourselves dogs.  I do tricks, and he sits up and begs for it.

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Rammed

Age has its ramifications.  Earlier today, as I left a store and approached my truck, I tripped on a dead cockroach – the summer Texas is merciless on all of God’ creatures – and slammed head-on into the front of my vehicle.  It’s a sturdy, high-level 2006 Dodge Ram.  So the damn thing hurt!

A young man rushed over and asked if I was okay.

“Sure”, I told him.  “Not baaaaad.”

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Slurp

A close friend of mine came down from Wichita Falls, Texas the other day to spend a few days with me.  He brought his new companion: a chocolate brown Chihuahua named Cocoa.  Like most small dogs, Cocoa is delectably adorable and innately vicious.  Little dogs have always reminded me of little women: small, cute and surprisingly mean.  I should know!  One of them gave birth to me!

Last night, as Robert and I watched TV, Cocoa curled up in her bed on the floor nearby and – after a while – I could hear her scrounging around.  I had noticed she had been chewing on one of her back legs and, concerned for her welfare, peeked over the coffee table – to see her curled up quietly.

I then realized Robert had set down his phone and had his leg hiked up over his head and – and, you know, even as a 50-something-bisexual-recovering alcoholic writer, there are some things I can go my entire life without seeing!

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A Very Strange and Dangerous Little Man

Cop: Do you have any weapons in the house?

Me: You’re looking at him.

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Wise

What do you call an Einstein donkey perched atop a grassy mound?

A smart ass.

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It Matters

Age is purely mind over matter.  If you don’t mind – who gives a shit!

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How the Chief Is Coping with the COVID-19 Quarantine – May 8, 2020

Reading bedtime stories to my aloe vera plant, Paco, is incredibly relaxing and soothing – well, at least for me.  And I know what you’re thinking.  (Remember, the Chief is cyber-psychic.  Who in the hell would name a plant Paco?  I mean…that’s so Mexican!  Okay, aside from me, Paco is the only other living being inside my house!  Even introverts must find a sense of humanity!

Ghosts” by Marvin Kaye

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