Talking football with Mad Max...

I just want to talk football with him, see if I can finally get his mind off dystopia:

"What now?"

He tells me he's not going to answer when I call because it's annoying, he still answers.

"Mad Max, look, I didn't call to discuss politics with you. Would it be possible for us to chat about football for a while? I know it's not high on your priority list, it use to be though. Let's pretend there's a normal season upcoming. Do you think the Chiefs will run it back?"

His answer is surprisingly pleasant, "I will go to fantasy land with you and pretend there's going to be a season. They have all the tools and jumping Jesus do they ever have a quarterback boy!"

"You better believe they got the quarterback. Just having him makes me think another parade is coming," adding with exuberance, "Mad Max, I have another question for you."

"What?"

"Do you know what the greatest day in Chief's football history is?"

"You already told me this one. I have it memorized. April 27th, 2017, its the day they drafted Mahomes."

"You better believe it boy! Back to back motherfucker!"

"You really know how to get a guy in a good mood."

"I want you to give dystopia a break for a minute good buddy. Everyone knows you're prepared. You still got to hold out some hope that things will eventually return to normal."

"There's where you & I differ. The reset button has been punched for real this time. The new normal will be chaos."

It's good to add levity when dealing with him.

"Did I tell you the newest conspiracy theory making the rounds among fans?"

"No," he replies.

"See, a number of them believe the Reckoning is brought upon by the Chiefs' first title in fifty years. It's been a running joke for years, at least I thought it was a joke. A majority of fans were not born yet last time they won the title. Long story short is no one thought it would ever happen and then when it did things went to hell shortly after, thus the Reckoning theory of a Chief's fan begins to seem plausible."

"Things did go to hell," he replies.

"I know it sounds illogical. Maybe there is some logic to it. Dad says anyone who thinks it is nothing more than coincidental is a fool. What do you think?"

"I agree with your dad. The shit house was bound to catch fire whether the Chiefs won a Super Bowl title or not. The unfortunate thing is we won't get to see them run it back because of this corona virus bullshit."

"That's not for sure yet, the NFL is a resilient corporation. They understand how much football means to America. I bet they......."

He interrupts before I'm able to finish my thoughts.

"Do you remember me telling you about being woke?"

"I do," is my answer.

"It's time for you to get woke. There isn't going to be a football season. We will miss the chance of seeing the Chiefs run it back. The quicker you come to grips with it the easier it will be for you to move on. Get fucking woke soon, please," he then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

predator or prey...

I was planning on giving Mad Max a rest. I planned wrong:

"What is it now genius?"

"Nothing in particular good buddy. I just thought you could tell me more about the dystopia. It's such an interesting subject," snickering under my breath.

"For some reason or another you seem to think this is funny," his voice rigid, "Like I said earlier moron, 'You will be the first guy to capitulate."

"Let's give dystopia a break and talk about something else for a while."

"What," he bellows obnoxiously.

"Let's talk about the Chiefs and there chances of running it back. They have twenty starters returning from last year. They're the odds on favorite to win it all again. Back to back good buddy. In all those years of frustration could you ever have imagined we'd be talking about the Chiefs going back to back. Chiefs motherfucker!"

He's a die hard fan so I figured a bit of Chiefs football talk would take his mine off dystopia for a few minutes...I figured wrong.

"Jesus Christ boy! You need to get woke!

"Oh great, here we go again," muttering before his obligatory 'woke' rant begins.

"Why the hell you're thinking about football is beyond me. The shit house is on fire with no end in sight and your main concern is if the Chiefs can win back to back Super Bowl titles."

"It would be cool," interrupting his tirade.

"Baaa, baaa, baaa, baaa - Do you know what that sound is boy?"

"No," anticipating an insult.

"It's the sound a sheep makes as it is being lead to slaughter. Get use to the sound, it will be common for you soon. I told you about my predator or prey theory. You will be part of the prey."

"You got to chill out will all your crazy talk Mad Max. It's beginning to alarm people."

"Predator or prey genius, predator or prey," he then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

Mad Max talking crazy...

I really, really, really need to give Mad Max a rest. The thing is I'm too stupid:

"What the fuck do you want now?" 

"How is dystopia preparation going for you today good buddy?"

"I know you have nothing better to do than sit around and thumb yourself all day long, I have things to do. The time I waste with you could be used for something productive," his patience thinning ever more.

"Give me a break," adding with humor to my tone, "How many times can a guy clean his guns and do ammunition checks. Good gracious, Mad Max, get a grip on yourself!"

"Listen, I know you think this is all a big joke and that I'm just some dumb ass in the woods with too many guns. I'll tell you this boy," stopping to catch his breath for a moment, "When they finally work up enough gall to come rushing through my door, I'll be ready! Your fat pasty ass will be the first guy to capitulate."

He's been overusing the word capitulate. I let him know, "It's always capitulate with you. It would be great if you could find another word. Do me a favor and don't say it or dystopia ever again when we talk. How's that sound for a new start?"

"Do you mean how your fat pasty ass will be the first guy to capitulate once dystopia arrives?"

"That's real funny Mad Max," adding with more laughter, "You should head to open mic night and try out some of your material."

"It's not meant to be funny jerk off!"

"Relax good buddy, all I'm saying is you got to chill out with all your crazy talk. People are starting to take it to heart."

"They should," his tone becoming more & more impatient, "Look man, I got crops that need tending so I don't have the time to sit around and talk shop with the first guy to capitulate," he then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

passing the time with Mad Max...

Things would definitely be clearer for me if I didn't dwell so much on Mad Max and all his craziness. I wasn't going to call him, but since I have nothing better to do:

"What the fuck do you want now?"

His phone etiquette could use polishing.

"I was just thinking about all that stuff you were talking about. You know, dystopia and all that other shit. I also got to tell you something."

"What?"

"I was going to come up to Kansas for a visit. Turns out I'll have to quarantine for fourteen days upon arrival. Kansas enacted an ordinance the other day stating anyone traveling from Arizona to Kansas must be quarantined upon arrival."

"Good," with a laugh, "We don't need filthy fuckers like you in the great state of Kansas."

I should be offended by the statement. I'm not.

"Mad Max, I want you to be honest with me. How bad are things going to get?"

"Let me ask you this," conviction in his voice, "What do you think a Dystopian state looks like?"

"I don't know?"

"Come on boy! Use that head of yours as more than a place to grow hair," asking again, "What do you think a Dystopian state looks like?"

"Uh, uh, uh, uh...I don't know," is the only answer I can muster. 

"Do you remember me telling you about being woke?"

"I do," is my answer

"It's time now, okay? It's time for you to wake up!"

"Can you explain it a little better to me? Just saying things are headed towards dystopia is a rather broad statement. Tell me some of the exacts so I can be prepared when it happens."

His patience wearing thin - "Man, if you don't get it by now you never will. Let me just sum it up for you real quick in a language everyone can understand, 'Guns, gold, crops, whiskey, beef, sex & more guns is going to be the new currency," he then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

 

a conversation with Mad Max...

I've known Mad Max since we were pups. Back then he was just your garden variety kind of crazy. Nowadays, it's risen to the point of him being downright scary:

"I will act accordingly while your soft ass gets swooped up in the first rounds of containment. It won't happen to me, not without blood shed everywhere."

"Jesus Christ dude, you have got to stop watching the news so much. It's turning your crazy-o-meter up another notch. It's the last thing you need," his paranoia continues to grow exponentially with all the current happenings in the world.

"I see what's going on down there in Arizona. The virus is running rapid and people are looting every chance they get. I promise you if that happens in my neck of the woods it will be dealt with harshly."

I doubt the looting will find its way to his bunker in north Greenwood county. Although, the virus could gradually make it there given the right spreader...I tell him such.

"You and this fucking virus bullshit. You don't seem to get it boy. The deep state is using the virus bullshit to encourage even that much more control over us."

"The deep state. Come on man. The only guy who is living in a deep state is you. You got to find something more viable. Again, stop watching so much news. It's turning off your spigot to reality."

It's been humorous for the longest time, listening to him rant about how we are all doomed. I never thought I would say this, "It's not humorous anymore. It's disturbing."

"Listen asshole, you can laugh all you want about things. Let me ask you a question. Do you think the corona virus was done intentionally?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean? You don't know."

Before I can respond the rant starts.

"Are you really that dumb? You're buying the story of some guy fucks a bat and then the bat shits on a pangolin, whatever that is, and then some asshole eats the the filth and now the world is shut down. It's bullshit. I don't believe it and no one else around here believes it either."

I don't know what to believe. I tell him such.

"Listen genius, I'm sitting here wasting time with you while I should be out tending the crops and preparing for dystopia. We'll have to carry this conversation on when you are finally woke," he then hangs the phone up without saying goodbye.

a young Mad Max...

Back when we were kids Mad Max had a dog named Harley. She was a beautiful tan bitch Rottweiler. He gave her carte blanche in Greenwood County. She would run all around town without a care in the world. Town folk would yell, chase, pet, feed, placate. It was a bygone era.

He stops by the house and asks, "Have you seen Harley?" 

"Haven't seen her buddy. Did you check down by the park? She was there earlier."

"I did. She wasn't there."

"I'll help you look for her good buddy," it's a summer afternoon in the 1980's and life is good.

We jump in his truck and begin to cruise the streets of Madison in search of her, checking the usual haunts with no luck. As he u-turns on Main a voice yells, "The dog catcher took Harley to the pound."

"When did we get a dog catcher in this town Jack? You have got to be shitting me."

"I'm not joking," he yells while standing on the corner of Main & 3rd, "The city council hired a lady out of Eureka. The pound is just north of town. It's where Joe's oil use to be. They converted the garage to a kennel."

We knew the place Jack was talking about & made our way there in short order.

Pulling into the gravel driveway of the newly anointed dog pound of Madison, he says, "If they know what is good for them they better give me Harley back without any problems."

"Relax dude, let me do the talking. We'll have her out of here in no time at all."

We follow the sound of barking dogs to the back of the structure and there was Harley, along with four other dogs, staring at us through a padlocked cage, "Don't worry girl we are going to have you out of here real soon. Go find whoever it is and tell them I am here to get her."

The pen was twenty yards, give or take, from the office. I walk around to the front and try an open the door. It was locked. I pound on the door for a few moments and no one answers. I go back to Mad Max and tell him no one is around. 

"Fuck this shit. I'm not waiting on anyone. I'm taking Harley home with me right now."

"How are we going to get her out of the pen without a key?"

"I got it covered boy. I'll be back in a minute," he walks to his truck and returns with a three foot ax, "Get the fuck back Harley! I'm going to get you out of here," all of the dogs retreat to the back of the kennel. 

Without further adieu he strikes the wood the lock is attached to. The cover plate half way dislodges. A few more violent strikes and it is lying on the ground.

"Let's get the fuck out of here Harley," yelling as he swings the door open.

I'll never forget the moment - Harley sprints to his truck and without breaking stride jumps directly in the bed. Her four accomplices all scattered in different directions as well. It was a doggy jailbreak.

As the two of us are leaving a mini white Nissan truck pulls in "What in the world are you guys doing?" It was the new dog catcher. Neither one of us recognized her.

"I am just getting my dog lady," Mad Max replies

"You are not suppose to be taking the dog. How did you get into the pen?"

"I chopped the lock off."

"You better not have," anger in her tone.

"I did! What the fuck are you going to do about it?" 

The new dog catcher is taken aback by his foul language, "You can't just come in here and take the dog. It is a nuisance and there is a fine you have to pay."

"I'm not paying you a fucking dime," the pitch of his tone growing ever more angry, "The dog has been running around town for years with no problem and you think you're going to take that away from her. I don't  know what the city council told you, but I'm telling you right now if you ever put her in here again I will burn this place to the ground."

"You can't talk like that to me. What is your name? Who is your father?"

He answered and added, "Look lady, we live in the bunker three miles north of town. If you want to go explain it to him. Be my guest."

The lady is a stranger to both of us, but after mentioning his fathers' name and the bunker three miles north of town the conversation ceases and we go on our merry way.

I never heard another word about a dog catcher in Madison after that day. My guess is the 'powers to be' realized a dog pound is not worth the aggravation of dealing with Mad Max; or others like him.

The Mad Max chronicles...

The other day I called my friend Mad Max in Kansas. I find him humorous & disturbing:

"Listen, dumb shit, I have been telling you this was going to happen. Are you prepared?"

I got to give the guy something before going further. If civil unrest comes knocking on his door. He's ready!

"Are you going to the rally in Tulsa tomorrow?"

"You better motherfucking believe it boy. I will be front row & center with my MAGA hat on. Trump is the greatest president in history & I stand behind him 100%."

"Are you worried about catching the virus? The news says over a hundred thousand people will be congregating there. I doubt much social distancing or mask wearing will be going on."

"Give me a break about all the virus bullshit," sternly reiterating, "It's all a bunch of bullshit! I'm not scared one iota by it."

"So that means you won't be wearing a mask," realizing the answer already.

"No, I'm not wearing a goddamn mask. Like I said moron. It's all a bunch of bullshit!"

"What happens if you catch it & then spread it to someone whose immune system isn't as strong as yours?"

"Look," grumbling even more sternly than before, "The old lady took the kids and left a long time ago. Mom & dad, bless their souls, are looking down from heaven. It's just me, the dogs, the guns, the crops & the bunker. I'm ready for whatever. Are you?" Mad Max has been preparing his entire life for times like now, "I will thrive while others cower," he boasts with confidence.

I ask a rhetorical question.

"Mad Max, what would you do if looters decided to come running through your front door?"

"Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop," repeating the sound a few moments more, "Then, before the empty hits the floor another will take its place. If the initial wave of fire fails to dissuade. I will shoot my way to the safe and bring out the heavy artillery. I'm ready boy!"

"I can see why I'm your only friend. All your crazy talk alarms people. Why can't you be like a normal person?" 

"Jesus boy, don't you fucking get it? The shit house is on fire. You are either predator or prey. Which do you want to be?"

He's lost it. I tell him such again.

"You will be the first guy to capitulate when the New World Order seeps in. I'll be the last!"

Before hanging up I ask how he thinks the Chiefs will fare in the upcoming season, "Are you really that naive? The whole fucking shit house is on fire and you're thinking about football. Boy, you need to get woke quick!" 

"I am woke you asshole, I'm not insane like you," I then hang the phone up without saying goodbye.