Mary Poppins
Okay, younguns, it's time to talk about hurt feelings, closely related to political correctness, a terminal spiritual disease addressed by something I think the U.S. Military dreamed up.
Once in a blue moon, I stumble online across something so precious that I want the whole wide world to know about it.
Free Radio Rulo
By Free Radio Rulo
Backwoods, vegetarian, off grid, eco-socialist, Big Jim operates a pirate radio station and publishes a newsletter from an old Wonder Bread Truck in rural Rulo, Nebraska.
Big Jim’s March 30, 2024 domestic status quo tail yankings split my sides laughing. Here are excerpts and a link to the whole thing.
https://freeradiorulo.substack.com/p/news-from-rulo-1c9
Good news, folks! The corrupt city council struck a deal with the nice folks from 'The Universal Church of Dudo,' and they are going to allow them to build their new international headquarters right here in Rulo! Just so happens that my good buddy Gary and my wife are now members of the Universal Church Of Dudo! Im really happy they could find meaning in the faith, and connect with the community. Gary is donating his entire salvage yard’s back lot for the worship center to be constructed, and my wife has already become a level 3 Dudo ambassador! She and Gary are even going on a two-week mission trip to Dubai together! I really think these people are good, wholesome, normal folks, and everything was just a big misunderstanding! I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to these kind-hearted people of faith, and reiterate, even though I'm a staunch agnostic, I do believe in others' right to religious freedom. I promise you all that 'News From Rulo' will always remain a safe space for all in the community, and I will no longer be so skeptical of others' beliefs.
Jim
Coming 2025!
The New Universal Church of Dudo International Headquarters Rulo, NE
How much can you donate today?
Yoga Guru Jerry Lee Jenson has agreed to incorporate the juice bar and connecting Yoga Studio with the new worship facility!
Can we put you down for $500?
Thanks
Goings on about town
Last weekend, I was talking to my good buddy, Ted, down at the Ye Ole Time Saloon. He had just gotten back from a weekend trip to Las Vegas! Now, Ted was telling me, one night, he was just sitting alone at a random slot machine, feeding it quarters, enjoying the casino ambience, and sipping on a Jack and Coke, when someone tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Hey cutie, you looking for a good time, big boy?”
Ted turned around, and, goddamn it, there stood our old buddy Herbie from high school. Herbie was freaking shirtless, ripped, six pack with only a bowtie. No one had heard from him in years, and he never showed up at any of the reunions.
Herbie was always a gifted gamer; he often played in Xbox tournaments, World of War Craft, Mario Cart, Super Smash Brothers on N64 and often won first place! One day at school, Herbie found himself cornered by an Air Force recruiter in the lunchroom. Herbie confessed that all he wanted to do was play video games for a living and had not given much thought to the Air Force. To his surprise, the recruiter told him he was in luck! They were seeking young men who could fly the new predator drones. Herbie, eager to serve his country, joined the Air Force right after graduation. He found himself remotely piloting drones in Iraq from Las Vegas and living it up every night.
Ole Herbie would clock in at 5:00 PM at the Air Force command center, hit some remote targets with the drone's “Hellfire Missiles” in Iraq, clock out, and head to the Vegas Strip! Herbie really got to explore all of Vegas: strip bars, casinos, back alleys, tattoo shops—while never really thinking too hard about what he was shooting up with his little nifty joystick and control panel during his shift. What a life he had, getting paid to fly drones and then party every night. Well, one day at the command center, Herbie noticed what his target really was. It seemed to Herbie that he had been incinerating civilians from his little command module and joystick in Las Vegas. After this shift, ole Herbie freakin' lost it as reality set in.
In a fit of despair Herbie went straight to the seediest spot on the Vegas Strip and bought the biggest crack rock he could get. He stayed up for a week smoking that shit, meeting just about everyone on the Vegas strip, telling them all about the drone strikes and atrocities committed by the U.S. military in Iraq.
Well, since ole Herbie was technically AWOL and sobering up, with his giant crack rock dwindling, he needed another way to make money to continue that crack high good time. He just couldn’t face the fact that he had been murdering civilians overseas behind a computer screen with a little joystick in the middle of Las Vegas. So, old Herbie was gonna need to make some quick cash, and that was the moment Herbie started hookin. God bless ya Herbie! Hookin sure beats killing kids with drone strikes!
Jim
Feral chow dogs on the loose in Rulo Beware!
I was hanging out in my backyard having a glass of wine with the gals when this freaking beast came outta my neighbors yard and it completely demolished my Gazebo and ruined my party! My friends were terrified. Good thing I had Gazebo insurance from the Primo Gazebo Call Center!
Letters to the Editor
Dear editor,
That fucking bitch Judy better leave my fucking dog alone! My dog wouldn’t hurt a fly. Judy’s dumb ass climbed up the gazebo when my dog got out and the whole thing collapsed under her weight. Lay off the wine my dog don’t bite. And stop bringing my ex over to spy on me.
Ted
Dear Editor,
The poetry slam at the library was rather lame, even with the free weed gummies. The slam poetry, with its themes about this and that, proved to be tedious, to say the least. Whatever happened to the gritty, working-class Bukowski style poetry? Or that wild Allen Ginsberg shit from back in the day! Nowadays, it seems everything has to adhere to political correctness and such. How about some poetry with substance? Gambling, drinking, and womanizing... These topics have depth. You bunch of dorks probably haven't even tasted a beer, let alone experienced love making with a woman or a man.
Doris
Here’s my comment, and Big Jim's reply, and what that led to:
Sloan Bashinsky
There ain’t no museum near big enough to hold and preserve the hilarious shit you bless the deserving with.
Free Radio Rulo
You are too kind brother!
Sloan Bashinsky
Naw, you are too funny, ought to be a law against it, all those deserving feelings you hurt.
Sloan Bashinsky
Once upon a time, early 1986 actually, I moved from my hometown, Birmingham, Alabama, to Santa Fe, New Mexico, hoping that would reset my clock and my life would change to suit me better. Soon, I met some people around my father’s age, who took a shine to me, why I can’t even now imagine. They told me about a fellow named Hugh Prather, who had written a pretty popular book called “Notes To Myself,” and then he had started in Santa Fe what he called “The Dispensable Church”. Hugh had moved elsewhere, but his church still met every Sunday morning in a rented church space in town, and I attended a number of services, during which different members of the congregation got up and spoke a little while. After a few months, one of the members said it was time to dispense the church, which I felt was dispensing some pretty darn good stuff, and that was the last service.
By and by, after some tinkering with me from the great beyond, which got my undivided attention and caused me to think I was super duper important, I moved to Boulder, Colorado, where I hoped my clock would be reset to suit me better. Slowly, but surely, what was tinkering with me turned up the tinkering a few notches, which included starnding me before lots of mirrors looking at little old me, and my view of my importance was ruthlessly mangled, stomped and torched, and I was a really slow learner, proven by the mangling, stomping and torching continues until this day, but that gets way ahead of what else I wanted to say about The Dispensable Church, which is everywhere it wants to be, when it wants to be, say, hmmm, in Rulo. Nebraska. But that also gets way ahead.
In Boulder, something stirred me to write Kundalina, Alabama: A Strange Tale. In one chapter, the alleged hero I pretty much made up to be the man I might have been if I wuz deserving, started his own dispensable church for a while, the idea for which he probably got from his mother who had written a cheeky anonymous column in the Birmingham Post Herald about goings on in local churches that did not seem to be able to discern the difference between God and the Devil. His lady love is to die for. There’s a heap more in that not entirely all fiction tale than that, but your dispensable church in Rulo generally, and especially your latest offering, caused me to fondly think back on all of that and tell you about it.
Kundalina, which has some ET lore, is a free read at the free internet library, archive.org, which is run and endowed by various colleges. The library specializes in out of print books and books authors offer for free.
KUNDALINA (A Strange Tale)
(1992)
https://archive.org/details/kundalina
By and by, two more dispensable novels with some force majeure lore hatched out of me. One twisting and winding tale that took a good while to eventually tell itself about a man I might have been if I was deserving. His lady loves are to die for, too.
Heavy Wait: A Strange Tale
(2001)
https://archive.org/details/heavy-wait-a-strange-tale_202212/page/n1/mode/2up
Return Of The Strange
(2023)
https://archive.org/details/retun-of-the-strange-v-20_202306
Free Radio RuloI love the idea of the "Dispensable Church". Shows up when you need it, moves on when ya don't. Are you sure it was even real? Thinking hard about the tax breaks
Sloan Bashinsky
It was very real in Santa Fe, until it dispensed itself. Don’t know if it was IRS qualified charity. I think some paperwork has to be filed to get that going. As for me, I don’t know when I’m ever not in church. Your Substack stuff sure looks like a church to me :-).
slooanbashinsky@yahoo.com
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