By The Son
Okay, so your favorite trailer park owner and mine, Adolf the Fascist,
has been, like, hassling me because Bo painted a really cool pink peace
symbol on the side of my trailer, #37. He says the straight neighbors
are complaining 'cause it makes the park look like there's nothing but a
bunch of heads (he actually said "hippies") living here. "Far out,
Adolf," I said. "The more freaks we get in here, the cooler this place
will be." But he says heads don't buy trailers. They usually rent and
don't pay their rent on time. And when they paint a bunch of "hippie
signs" all over his trailers, he has to, like, repaint them after we
move out. I tried to tell him that we are all brothers and sisters here
and that we are not into ownership of material things--that, though he
traded green paper printed by our corrupt government for these trailers,
they do not belong to him in any cosmic sense, because everything really
belongs to everybody, so really these are our trailers, too. We're just
granting him titular ownership. (He perked up at that word "titular,"
until I explained that it has nothing to do with the female anatomy.) I
also told him discriminating against us--either because we rent or
because we have long hair or because we're exercising our human right to
express ourselves creatively by decorating our homes--is like completely
uncool. But could he dig it? Could he rise above his middle-class
capitalist background even for one minute? Take a guess. He's a fucking
one-man moral majority. But that's cool, right? We've got the power, and we shall overcome the Fascist establishment,
|
|
Photo by E.L. Hubbard
|
|
because we are together. (We busted the Morton High School dress code, didn't we?) So Bo will be coming around to all your trailers with jars of Day-Glo paint he shoplifted over at the Ontario store in the Morton Plaza. (As
Thoreau said, civil and commercial disobedience are our duties!) The
paint is, like, free, but we are taking donations of canned goods for
the free store we're setting up over in the wash house. So paint
something freaky on your trailers--you know: eyes, ankhs, peace signs,
anything. Then we've got Adolf by the balls, right? He can't throw us
all out. He'd lose 50% of his capitalist pig income. As to the other
fifty percent, which comes from our straight neighbors, we're launching
the "Turn On A Straight Neighbor" drive this weekend. If you see your
straight neighbors grilling some dead animal meat out on the patio, pay
them a visit, take a joint with you and turn them on. If they're not
into it, drop a hit of acid (half a hit for the kids, I guess) into
their beer or their lemonade or whatever they're drinking, and presto: a
straight cookout becomes a freaky painting party! Desperate times
require desperate measures. Right on! Power to the people! Demand your
right to paint!
|
|
|
Publisher: Adolf
Editor-in-Chief: The Son
Fashion Editor: Tonya
Lifestyle Editor: Storm
Circulation: Bo
|
Contributors:
Little Esther
Lulu
Mona
Larry
|
|
Beer is a Canned Good, Too
|
Circulation Update
By Bo
Hey, brothers and sisters, I'll be delivering The Voice of the Trailer
Park to your trailers like once a month, you know, like, whenever I can
get it together. I'll try to get it to you in the early afternoon, so
you can read it when you first get up. If you're like me, you dig the
morning paper with a cup of coffee, a pot-sprinkled brownie and the
first joint of the day (makes the news a lot more interesting). You know
we're not into making any kind of profit on the paper, so you don't have
to pay anything except canned good donations to the Wash House Free
Store. But please remember, a can of beer is a canned good, too. You can
pay for your paper and donate to a good cause (the Bo MacLellan Memorial
Beer Fund) at the same time by leaving a cold can of Hudy outside your
door. Lugging papers is like, physical labor, man. It makes me fuckin'
thirsty, if you dig where I'm coming from. But if your donating, like
cans of corn and beans and shit like that, please take it over to the
wash house yourself, 'cause I can't carry anything I can't drink.
|
| |