As some of my alert readers know, the Clown pulled up stakes in Georgia and moved to the Texas Hill Country. Some would argue that he did this because the politics of Georgia were no longer conservative enough and Texas looked like it might secede from the union and rejoin Mexico. This would then require Mexican immigrants to cross the Red River into Oklahoma if they really wanted to be in the US, thus clearing out most of the Latino population of Texas and turning Oklahoma City into a version of San Antonio, sans Alamo.
According to the Internet, once the immigrants were in Oklahoma, the current democrat U.S. administration would provide each family with a new Ford 150, voter registration cards, a free 1700 square foot house, grandfathered status for Social Security, food stamps, complimentary health care and free vacations to Martha’s Vineyard once per year. However, Texans would no longer be footing the bill, having succeeded at secession. This Internet thing is really something, ininit?
Actually, the Clown came to Texas to be closer to friends and family, music that doesn’t require gang membership with its occasional shooting, more authentic Tex-Mex food and to avoid the possibility of having Herschel Walker represent him in the Senate.
Just two miles from the Clown’s new residence is a planned community named after the former spread, “Kissing Tree Ranch”, on which a developer is building hundreds of retirement bungalows for those 55 or older. The “Kissing Tree” development is a gated community, primarily populated with “Screw you, I’ve got mine” conservatives, if political yard signs during this campaign season are any indication. The Clown found an un-gated back entrance through which he can pedal his ancient road bike and safely tool around mostly empty streets because children, the enemy of net worth, are not allowed unless leashed.
Apparently, when creating street names, the developer’s crack marketing team decided to play off of the Kissing Tree name, which combines an active verb, “kissing”, with the name of specific or general flora, “tree”. Thus does the Clown ride streets such as “Jumping Laurel”, “Hopping Peach”, “Leaping Holly”, “Dashing Sycamore”, “Laughing Pear”, “Singing Sumac”, “Skipping Cedar” and “Flying Orchid”. There are many other verb/flora combinations that have the flora “cruising” (kinky, eh?), “gliding”, “sweeping”, “dancing”, “sowing”, “racing”, “drawing” and “playing”. These mash-ups cause the Clown to envision some random shrub suddenly dashing down the street occasionally hopping, skipping, dashing, leaping and then slowing to do some cruising. The picture in one’s head can actually be a tad frightening.
Upon reflection, the Clown notes that perhaps the chucklepants team the developer put together to create street names missed some real opportunities to carry the “kissing” theme a bit further, if you get his drift. For example “Necking Nectarine” has a ring to it. “Groping Gingko” works nicely. “Rutting Redbud”, “Humping Hasta”, “Probing Palmetto”, “Thrusting Tulip”, “Screwing Swamp Wattle”, “Coming Catalpa” and “Douching Dogwood” would all live within the larger spirit of one-thing-leads-to-another-thing when it comes to kissing, let alone slow dancing.
Alas, the Clown rarely has the opportunity these days to advise and consult with the corporate community. Perhaps his more creative, some would say salacious, approach to putting a business front and center, especially on social media, is the reason he lounges around, sometimes posts a blog and no longer hears from corporate America for his brilliant ideas.
As for actually living in a 55+ community, the Clown would rather have a daily root canal. Homogeneity is great if we’re talking milk but the Clown prefers a community with a few chillrens, some 30-something newlyweds, street musicians busking for rent money, a mix of students (K-college) and all the varied “others” that most 55+ communities keep outside the gates. Call the Clown “old fashioned” and you’ve tripped over the truth.
Observoid of the Day: The loss of the historic republican party leaves a giant hole into which the democratic republic could disappear.