Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll declares THE REPUBLIC OF SOOZ (Sanity Optional Occupied Zone). She writes:

I have declared an autonomous takeover of an admittedly small space within my gated geezer community which is, itself, a fairly small space within the Dusty Little Village. Sure, we have to start small, but the important thing is to keep it pure. Eventually, we will take over the world and it will be Heaven on Earth. Oh sure, some of our ideas have been tried before and SEEMED to work out badly, what with tens of millions dead and stuff, but it’s never been tried RIGHT. By people as smart and pure as we are. I am using the “Royal We” here, by which I mean just me. For I am the Sole Occupant, Occupied Zone, which so far, consists entirely of our back patio.

Max Cossack, the famous novelist with whom I have lived for 53 years so far, is not “woke” enough to join my endeavor. Not only is he white, straight and flagrantly male, but he is not woke at all. In fact, he is downright “nappy,” and I don’t mean just his hair. He can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, or even a bowling ball, so he is not allowed in The Zone. Wokesters only!

SOOZ is one of my nicknames, so there is a slim chance I will remember it. If I were to add one more member to my Zone, it would likely be a hottie of a black warlord like they have in CHAZ. No commune should be without an unelected hottie warlord, but rappin’ warlords are thin on the ground in Gated Geezerville.

I mentioned the position of Warlord to The Paranoid Texan Next Door, my regular morning walking partner, though he is far from an ideal candidate. He is not only an old white guy, but fears that warlord duties could keep him from his poker toy where he has amassed over 11 billion pretend dollars in poker winnings. Those games don’t just play themselves! It’s practically a full-time job, like Sudoku or knitting. SOOZ could use some money like that to expand, perhaps even to the front patio.

The PT also suffers from Max’s male ability to nap like he’s just been hit with a two-by-four, even in the middle of a perfectly exciting long, involved anecdote about something that happened to me in high school. He has fallen asleep when I’m talking on more than one of our walks, which I in no way take as an indication that I am boring.

Since Max is co-owner of our house, he has refused to surrender the inside of the house for the commune, though, like the reasonable guy he is, he still allows me to come inside and cook for him twice a day. And then sends me right back out on the patio. It was a pleasant 109 yesterday, but one of these days it is going to get hot. I may have to build some sort of a structure for protection from the sun. Building is not one of my six meager skills, which regular readers might remember as: typing, driving, packing a suitcase, shooting, cooking, and being intermittently amusing. Which I might add, gets progressively more difficult in these wacky times wherein parody and satire are utterly dead: YOU TRY IT!

Sitting under the picnic table for escape from the relentless Arizona sun is problematic as it is made of an open-weave sort of metal and has given me a most peculiar tan. It works as well at keeping out the sun as that goofy actress’s hand-embroidered mask would work against the tedious and pesky ChiCom virus.

The People’s (well, technically, Person’s) Republic of SOOZ has water in the form of a garden hose, a table, 8 chairs, two colorful rockers, and a barbecue grill. Like the Young Pioneers in CHAZ, I have also started a vegetable garden. Though some of us in SOOZ are still grotesque carnivores, we have passed a non-binding resolution to move to a strictly vegan diet as soon as the first crop is harvested, but there has been a slight setback.

A haboob blew away all the neat little seed packets I had mounted on sticks so I can’t remember what we had to look forward to. And then the few small shoots that came up got eaten by rabbits. So whatever it was, is now gone and the rabbits are looking at me like it’s all MY fault they are out of food! The selfish rabbits are at least partly white – coincidence?

SOOZ has recently purchased a communal camel for transportation to avoid resorting to hideous fossil fuels. Naturally, one of my busybody tattletale neighbors, who cares nothing for The Climate Change 9 Years Left Disaster has told the HOA about the camel just because it deposited dung in her yard – anybody can have a bad day of intestinal flu and camel flatulence — and now there is a lien on our house and a $50 fine, going up $25 a day unto infinity. Where is the “right” to be free of camel dung enshrined in the HOA rules? Clearly, insisting on being “dung-free” comes from a place of privilege.

SOOZ is also working night and day on The Rules. You can’t uproot 250-some years of our American Republic’s culture without something way better to replace it! The main overriding philosophy is there is to be no kind of White Supremacy Whatsoever. As I kneel here by the camel, swaddled entirely in Kente cloth, I will never tolerate any kind of Supremacy. Even Diana Ross music is prohibited in SOOZ, though not Ms. Ross herself, God forbid!

Because I am, technically, white, I spend several hours a day denouncing myself, levying taxes on myself, paying reparations to random passersby, yelling at Max, who is pale as a ghost, calling out my dead ancestors every one of whom was white, probably on purpose. In the afternoon, I spend time calling my sainted late mother who loved everyone, a “typical” white person. That is what my hero Barack Hussein Obama said about his late white grandmother who raised him in private school in Hawaii when his commie Kenyan baby daddy took a powder. Classy!

I am hoping to recruit some more Woke People to the SOOZ Zone, since growing our numbers by procreation in an over-55 area is a ship that has sailed. But I am finding that impeding the streets by walking and yelling “F U Icky Racist White Supremacist Deplorable People!” and “All Lives Don’t Matter, Especially Not Yours!” is less of a recruitment tool than I had hoped. Not only that, but walking down the middle of the street in a geezer enclave is not as effective as blocking highways because many of our local drivers are vision- and hearing-impaired and wouldn’t even notice if they hit you. Or remember it if they were told that they had. A demographic that has sat through many Time-Share seminars does not fear prison.

Anyway, if you all can think of some catchier slogans, please send them my way. Meanwhile, SOOZ will continue to be a beacon of clarity in a murky and racist world because all men and women, and the other 57 genders recently enshrined by the Court Supremacists are created …well, you know the thing.

Notice: All comments are subject to moderation. Our comments are intended to be a forum for civil discourse bearing on the subject under discussion. Commenters who stray beyond the bounds of civility or employ what we deem gratuitous vulgarity in a comment — including, but not limited to, “s***,” “f***,” “a*******,” or one of their many variants — will be banned without further notice in the sole discretion of the site moderator.

Responses