Good Friday

In n mexico he saw navajo scourging themselves, their acompanadores dragging heavy crosses stitched from mesquite branches; these were followed by spaniards and the navajo women singing hymns. In a wagon sat death beckoning his penitentes to the churchyard where they would compete to be the chosen crucifixion, good friday.

Hitch Ditch

Fully stocked with Sol beer, Nogales agave, dope weed, weedy dope, inhalers, rebreathers, merc coke, Marlboro reds, Sunny D singlets, organic pork cutlets, Spotify cued to a tight James Gang playlist by an avatar alleging herself a her-self named Juanita, Allen Copatit should have been more engaged with his weekend of tequila sunrises, but no, he was sober, and rabbit holed on YouTube watching Christopher Hitchens decimate true believers; first the rabbi, then the preacher, then the mullah -- there was a joke there somewhere, but for Hitch dead of cancer that only the mullah thinks God cached.

Maysles Stones and GOAT

Albert Maysles died an old man recently. Is it ironic that documentary not only remains vital, but flourishes on Netflix and the like, whereas 'film', er, 'movies', feel like a limp refillable for the greater world, er, Asia?
Narrative is musical chairs. TV is literature, Video Games are movies, Internet is TV; movies? Movies are a fading but lucrative gimmick for the third world. Like Catholicism.
Maysles. Watched Gimme Shelter again, and seeing Richards/Jagger with Tina/Ike reminded me of an old fantasy booking. Suppose the two groups traded singers?
This is not a Jagger critique, but is Tina Turner fronting the Stones on Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, Exile on Main Street, the greatest fantasy draft rock band of all time?