About GonzoTown…
Get ready for the new epoch in digital literary media. This new site sits on the crumbling edge of 21st century cultural and political discourse. For those readers who have grown tired of the oversupply of predictable hacks and overpaid mainstream media charlatans, the reams of hollow satire online- and who are looking for the antidote… welcome to GonzoTown….
We are catering to a growing niche of readers who are trolling the web for something original and politically incorrect. This growing constituency wants real commentary and(we hope) secretly enjoy it when our staff deliver rabbit punches to the establishment.
So, let’s hit the issues then (and there’s no reason why we can’t have a little fun).
>> MEET OUR INTERNATIONAL EDITORIAL & WRITING SQUAD…
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Hey….question…
How does one submit to your wonderous site?
In case it’s wanted,
here’s a writing sample…..
The night Bigfoot took Hillary…. Strange vibrations in
Sasquatch Country….
Run from the red eyes…
By Mat Hunt.
It seemed like I was watching and listening to a fixed
dart tournament being played with seashells instead of
darts…and coma patients playing instead of fit and
mostly drunk rednecks…crowded around four people with a
thirst for beer and free money. To get off the subject
for a second… Dart throwers are a rare breed whose
numbers are thinning by the day in the sight of game
systems that you have to warm up with before playing.
The bar games of my youth..darts, billiards, getting
blind drunk and betting on games made up in the heat of
the moment… These things are of the past now, or are on
their way out and are being replaced by Fantasy Football
and unnatural golf games that don’t require shoes.
But, as I drove my rental Buick to the campaign
headquarters, I strove to get my thinking back on
track..I would need it there to pen this weird tale of
stupidity and bestial worries that revolved around a
little girl named Hillary…who was trying to make her way
to a hootenanny in the big city of Florida. And when she
got to the party, she was OOOOOOH so happy to see that
all of the mean people who hated her were kept at arms
length or the city limits, which ever came first….
Mostly due to the fact that despite all their moaning,
Florida screwed themselves royal when they moved their
primary up to January. But they knew what was going to
happen…And how could they not know the winner of a
primary with only one entry? Oh well… At least there was
no screaming for a re-count….this time.
Anyway…back in the harsh mountains of Florida, things
went swimmingly for young Hillary…As she took the
primary by a landslide. There were finger foods by the
hand full and the Elder Lady Rodham even let Hillary sip
on a glass of champagne when the final points came in on
Angus, her prized screech vulture. “Look it, mommy! Look
it!” She exclaimed. ” They said I would win and I did,
Mommy! I really did it!”
The evening was at a heated pace…with Bill feeling up on
the staff with Mr. Rodham and Mother dearest and Hillary
sitting around the kitchen table at campaign
headquarters waiting for another batch of sugar cookies
to come out of the oven. As the night wore on, Hillary
left the side of the Elder Mrs. Rodham and jumped…as if
she were a spider monkey…to the side of Bill, where he
held her head and rocked her slowly while gently lulling
her to sleep with a non-sequiter version of nine inch
nails “Closer”.
Around Twelve or so, Bill put Hillary to bed. Which was
sad as I had just made my presence known and was hoping
for a word with the winning candidate before she
strapped on the gloves for the fight with O’Bammah in
California. I was sipping on a tom Collins and enjoying
the floral arrangements when, right after I noticed the
apple blossoms, I saw a small group of very nervous
looking attendee’s and delegates walking back and forth
and whispering in a manner that made me anxious to say
the least. I made my way past the all you can use
condiment bar and into the hallway where I had seen the
people talking. I thought I might be asked to leave if I
asked outright what the commotion was about so I felt it
prudent to stay on the fringe of the situation and let
it unfold as fate would have it. I had just began to
speak to a kind soul with no eyebrow’s when there were
three loud knocks, like if a three year old got a hold
of a gantline gun. Then there was total silence…like the
silence of the grave. Just then, the door at the end of
the hallway erupted with the shattering of the frame
into toothpicks and the stampede of the contents of the
hall running at me told me that I needed to jump from my
skin or get out of the way. I jumped on to a high table,
barely missing the hand of a gentleman wearing a blue
suit streaked with what looked like blood but smelled
like musk ox. I stayed as close to the wall as was
humanly possible; shielding myself with what was left of
the floral arrangement I was looking at not twenty
minuets ago. I searched for some semblance of reason.
Shards of wood…the distant rumble of the secret
services’ feet…all to a soundtrack of grunts and yelps
that came from the dark room where chaos just sprang
from.
I heard a series of “nonononononon”s and, thinking
something unnatural might be happening, I dismounted
from my table in order to lend aid if I could..when the
first foot of this thing came into view. Then there was
a cascade of screams as a bundle of something went
flying from one side of the room to the other. The
aforementioned foot pulled back…then a walking chunk of
wild rug charged towards the lump and after a few more
thumps of an ominous nature, a pair of insane eyes with
snarling teeth and drooling jowls came rushing at me
with the bundle in one hand and the other hand
outstretched,
Ready to grab anything in it’s way in lieu of food. I
dodged the putrid smelling claws and tumbled out of the
way to see the bundle from the back of the leviathan,
tugging and jerking, with only a tuft of blonde hair
sticking out to give a hint at who was in it. After
about thirty shot’s that I counted, someone screamed
“Cease fire!”….someone had found that the candidate was
no longer in the room. I turned to see that it was Bill
screaming for them to stop as he was now on all fours
spitting up blood. Almost in the same second as when
they stopped firing, Whatever it was tore through the
bay window and in doing so, took half of the wall with
it. Then I was taken into another room and
strip-searched as per secret service edict while every
man and woman, Clinton and Rodham, ran out into the
night guided only by the lights of their blackberries
and P.D.A’s.
After pulling my pants up and asking if both agents
still respected me as a journalist, They grabbed me by
my wrist, locked both of my thumbs in back of me and
asked me nicely to leave. “Sure, I’d be happy to go. I
just need my bag. It’s in the other room.” With that,
they let me walk free. They had other things to deal
with at that second as as soon as they undid my arms,
they were gone like a dream…running towards the
screaming outside and that damn huge hole in the wall. I
grabbed my bag and made my way back to the leftovers of
the room where the running shag had come from. I had
heard many stories about the yeti and whatnot. But never
in Florida…And I had no idea that it was a republican.
I looked into the room at first with a small piece of
glass, at first…swat style. No one in the room but the
stench of whatever was there burned my nostrils so bad I
may never be able to eat scampi again. I had seen enough
of this destruction to know it was time to leave. As I
was walking down the hallway to the remnants of the
doorway, I got into a showdown/stair-off with more
Secret Service people that almost ended with me also
going missing that night. After that craziness, I got
back into my rental and let it roll slowly onto the
highway, where I turned on the lights and floored it
till I was out of the county.
Cut to the night after the primary in Cali…. I couldn’t
watch it. It would have been far too painful and I
didn’t want to risk a psychotic break if I flashed back
to Florida. I listened to it over four AM radio stations
with a T.V. on in the background to make sure that there
was something on in the room that made sense. I figured
it would be kind of visceral anyway….like watching a
horror flick you’ve seen a thousand times..but now
someone has randomly inserted slaughterhouse
surveillance video at random intervals. About 6 a.m., I
began to pick up E-mails from some parties hinting that
someone had heard of a stand in theory and several high
end pay-off’s so that those who might notice wouldn’t
ask any questions. But then again..These things were
only hinted at…so who knows.
But I can’t help, as I stair out into the night, just
how the party will end for little Hillary.
If she ever reads this, all I can say is…”Hillary, come
home! Your mamma’s worried and Bill’s into the scotch
again.”
Amen.