I love this time of year, here in my city. For about two weeks in the middle of winter, the weather changes and becomes calm, sunny, warm and lovely. Usually it’s the same time as the cherry blossoms bloom and the lost majik of my city once again asserts itself.
All of her denizens become happy, and generous of spirit, as if they had beef freed from the yoke of slavery. Slavery to the cold, the wet, to the indoors and each other.
It is also the month I have chosen for my birthday.
Since at the time of my first birth, calendars weren’t yet invented. People tracked time the old fashioned way, with the rising of the moon, the raising of crops or the passing of sons in war.
But about a thousand years ago I decided to celebrating the birthday of my current incarnation as my true birthday.
But I digress…
I love my city, but she’s having troubles. The gulf between rich and poor is no more apparent than here. Mocking all of us with a horrible reflection of our leaders ideas of our future.
I have never really believed in politics or ism’s
That was always my brothers job. I was content to stand by and watch, to be the commentary on life. But now that he passed, his mantle of activism has bled into my soul and won’t go away. As much as I try it seems to assert itself when I least expect it.
Indeed. I get lost at times when I write. Deciding to move with the flow as opposed to the thought.
My city, my beautiful morally bankrupt city, is still the only place I call home. The only place that calls my name as I walk her streets at night, climb her hill during the day.
Whispering to me in the slightest of ways.
There’s hope.
As long as there is winter-spring, I’ll believe her.
Selah
The Rev
That’s me, to the core.
I used to want to believe that I was a good man, a good man with bad traits or a lost soul who has no clue searching for the truth. But sadly, that not true. I’m just a bad reverend with spit and vinegar running through his veins instead of love and light. The plain and simple fact is….that’s how it’s always been. Spit and vinegar has run through my families veins for millennia.
So you ask;
“Well rev, what brings this up? Why now are you coming clean with us now after all of these years”?
As of late, a few readers have told me how much they love my florid sermons. The ones with deep thoughts and no cursing. The ones where I use the English language to its fullest, it’s most eloquent forms. Where I bathe in the luxury of language. But that’s not me really. That’s just me trying to be someone else.
I am a Brutalist. (Look it up)
I read flowery posts from folks and I want to throw up. I find the “California hug” insufferable. I eschew vapid emotional outbursts for the sake of showing the community that you care, that you’re in love……
I take pride in that as well. As fucked up as it is it’s true. My veneer of concrete will never be broken.
A true story:
In a different lifetime, I had a girlfriend who had many sisters. One of the sisters had a young son who had some emotional issues at the time. I need to point out before I resume, that this child has turned out to be a wonderful man who is kind and responsible. The goddess would be pleased and proud.
As I was saying the child had a few issues and was prone to fantastically overblown outbursts of anger. Now his mom would do her best to help the child, but as it takes with some folks, time and wisdom were needed to be present to help him make the changes needed to become the man he is today.
We went out to dinner one night, some place where they still had those wonderful comfy booths back to back and Killer (we used to call him “Killer”) was having a hard time at dinner when all of a sudden he sat up, turned around on his knees facing the booth behind and at the top of his lungs with machine gun precision shouted out; “FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU”.
He turned back around and sat quietly for the rest of the meal.
Needless to say everyone was horrified: everyone but me. I was rolling in the aisles almost breathless from laughing so hard. The table behind us was in a state of disarray and disbelief. It looked like the Caribbean after hurricane Irma! The man’s toupee was in his pasta, bowls were overturned, clothes strewn everywhere, children were crying and the mother was shouting something at us which sounded like English, but I couldn’t really hear her over the sound of my own laughter. But from then on, every so often, Killer would let the fuck you’s rip, always out of nowhere, always when he couldn’t find the right words.
Now back to the blog:
I have never let go of Killer in my head. When I read those flowery posts I think FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU as if he was right next to me in that booth, both of us on our knees screaming. When someone whom I don’t really like or even know comes up to me and tries to hug me I think; FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU.
I can’t help it, lord knows I’ve tried but it comes soaring out of the back of my mind with ballistic speeds.
I, of course, respond in reality with all of the proper decorum one should have, let alone someone who pretends to be a man of the cloth. I use the correct “like buttons” on Facebook or nod my head and smile that inane vapid smile. I make the small talk that says “I’m here making contact” but am actually sitting with Killer in that booth. I try to get away as fast as possible from the hug but when cornered I allow it to happen.
Still I hear Killer, screaming-not knowing what he’s doing is socially wrong. Not knowing that in one moment he is breaking apart long-standing traditions of grace and decorum.
FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU.
Sometimes it’s the only thing that conveys the correct emotion.
I’m a Brutalist and I call it as I see it.
Selah
the rev
Hey Y’all,
Lordrifa has a few gigs coming up and some new Video’s to share. First off we are playing with Kandur and the Blind Bandits, Saturday September 16 at the Neck of the Woods club in the Richmond in SF. It will be deep!!
Then we want to invite all of you to watch and comment on our new video “Toxic Love” from our last album, “Playland at the Beach”. A scathing commentary on the government/corporate alliance to make you believe there are no problems with our environment. Contrary to the facts!
We are also playing at the Bottom of the Hill on Saturday October 28th for a very terrifying Halloween show with Sam Pace and Stang.
And if you haven’t seen it yet, don’t forget to watch our last video “City of Dis” made by the amazing folks at Ikeibi Films!
This revolution is televised!!!!!
Selah,
the rev
It’s actually:
America for the rich again
America for class separation again
America fucks the poor again
America back to the 50’s, when everything was just peachy and we could go down to the local diner in town and have a vanilla shake and see Biff and Joe and Buffy (well not Buffy-she’d kick their ass!!) and all our white pals sitting at the counter where people of color are not allowed. Where we gently dismiss the concept of color because it’s not spoken in proper circles.
I hate that America. That America had us on the Brink of Nuclear war for years.
I hate that America. That America was still lynching people of color-All color!
I hate that America. Because it abused it’s role in the world.
In this lifetime, I grew up in these towns-in this world and I ran as far as I could away from all of the hate. But it’s now found me again. It’s found us all.
I am sick and tired of this whole White American/Christian Jihad thing. You know it’s unfounded, annoying and utterly a spoiled brat cause. Poor little white christian folks lost power in the last election (Not really) and because of this, an de-evolution has occurred in our society. It’s now OK to obliterate the last 20 years of social progress towards equality and freedom, of taking care of the sick and the poor, of creating a society that can lift everyone and not just the rich.
“Burn everything if we can’t have it all”.
It’s absolutely OK to stand up in congress and tell the American people that global warming doesn’t matter because god will take care of it!! It’s now OK to advocate for this.
It’s now OK to combine church and state (only if it’s the Christian church of course) It’s now OK to be a racist, fascist, oligarch. It’s now OK to act like a banana republic where nepotism is allowed and a crone plutocracy is installed.
America first….in a world that is global in nature, in a world where we as a super power have gone in and raided smaller countries for their wealth (undercover of course). In a world when our president and his cronies have massed huge amounts of wealth by investing and takeing funds from other countries, the hypocrisy is stifling.
America first is bullshit.
I miss the America we created where all people are striving for equality, even if it was hard. Where it’s NOT OK to brandish hate placards and sentiments of segregation and misogyny. Where disdain for science did not exist and being poor was not a disease.
As a white man, I despise what we’ve become.
As a Reverend, I’m ashamed to tell Jesus who we are.
As someone who has lived thousands of lifetimes across this earth, I am tired of this battle yet again.
Selah,
the rev
Hey Y’all.
It has tales of terror, humility, humanity and of course DJT!! (What album these day would exclude him?).
We are coming to the Neck of the woods on Saturday, April 29, 2017 8 pm to play it all for you. We are lucky to have a wonderful opening act called the Rad Dads.
http://www.lordrifa.com/upcoming-gigs
Clear your calendars, tell your friends and get ready to revolt!!!
I get up every morning read the papers front to back,
Not missing a single word.
I like the way it feels folding over in my hands.
a relic of the past.
My future is past
The papers sing me stories of things I can’t control or stop,
Swearing it’s from god.
I drink my bitter coffee, conversing with my friend-
My version of the creator.
He’s my favorite god!
And I feel helpless against the tide of liberty’s decay.
I feel helpless against the tide of political betrayal!
But underneath it all are excuses that I tell myself,
The excuses of my story.
My wife she holds the purse and my shame seems to never end,
The shame of my story.
There’s no jobs to be had!
And I feel helpless against the tide of liberty’s decay.
I feel helpless against the tide of political betrayal!
“He’s a true patriot, god rest his weary soul.
He died on a cross or was it under the sole,
Of a boot still worn by a our butcher of choice.
He gave his life to defend my voice”.
Lord, lift him to heaven, god rest his soul
but his family and his neighbors got to get off the dole……….
Don’t just stand and wait for the American spring,
Don’t just be idle but sing the praises of the free.
Freedom is not the right to be white,
It’s the right of dissension, and the will to fight.
I’m gonna run and find our American spring,
I’m gonna get on my knees and pray for this thing.
I’m gonna find you and dance and sing,
I’m scream and shout our American spring.
You gotta fight for the American spring!
You gotta die for the American spring!
You can’t hide from the American spring!
We all long for the American spring……
Selah,
the rev
There was so much to say before yesterday. I found that in watching the organic nature of the marches, their peacefulness and the magnitude of the movement, I became speechless.
It said more than I ever could on the topic of the occupant of the oval office. It made me proud to be part of the resistance and ashamed that there had to be one. So I will address only my emotions here in this blog, because the specific words have been presented so much more eloquently than I could ever had hoped to do.
This is a missive to my friends and family who voted for the current regime. Things will not be the same, no matter how much you believe to be right or me wrong, you cast your vote for a political coup d’etat. You ignored history. You swallowed the green pill.
You voted as a brown shirt.
You think you were part of a historic movement to right the injustice’s wrought upon you. The taking back of your country. Your country-as if it really belonged to any of you. Taking back what was rightfully yours. But what real injustices did you suffer? Were you pushed to the back of a bus because of your race? Where you passed over promotions because of your sex? Where you tossed off you jobs at the coal mines because coal production became to unsafe for the world in general. Where you denied healthcare because of pre-existing conditions? What happened to make you wear a brown shirt?
No, You’re white, lower middle class Americans who’s grandparents fled oppression in Germany and Russia, and you-in all of your myopic wisdom run-at full speed-back into their arms. You have never suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune-not until now.
You believe in a regime that uses doublespeak. That hinders the free media from reporting. That demonizes all who stands against it. You backed a regime that for years has been tampering with the free voting process by gerrymandering the districts until it was all but impossible to lose seats in the government. You walked with them with your fist raised high.
This is no different that what occurred in Russia during the early 20th century or Germany in the 30’s, central America in the 60’s. Small groups of people controlling larger ones through misinformation and the help of outside governments. We as Americans should know this because we have been party to this for years in other countries.
I wish I was wrong. I pray every day that I’m wrong. But I’m not. You complained that your healthcare was butchered, that your jobs had disappeared all because of a black man. All because when you looked into the mirror of society, what stared back at you was an inevitable future of the great melting pot-the real promise of America……..
and you were scared.
I no longer care if we speak. I no longer care if at the funerals and wedding I ever see you.
I no longer care.
Selah
the rev
Saturday January 7th 2017, 8:45
You can BUY tickets here or at the door. Tell ’em the Rev sent you and get a free download from our upcoming album, “Playland at the Beach”. An adventure in funktographic color with 25.1 Progressive Surround Vibes. A New Americana experience!!
Congregation of WE by The Reverend LordRifa is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
The Reverend LordRifa 