20140301_125336Typically I’m that guy that is always fashionably late. I suppose I use the words fashionably late to mask the fact that I actually have obsessive compulsive disorder, and I am usually scrambling at the last minute to make sure I have everything with me that I will need. This sometimes causes major setbacks, however you have to admit, it is pretty impressive when I show up later than all of you and make a calm, cool pause underneath the doorway with a James Dean smile and a cryptic hand gesture. Come on, you know that’s cool. I practice that crap in a mirror, so throw me some love.
As I said, typically that is my modus operands. However on this particular day, I was not going to take any risks. I had been up for seventy two hours hovering over monitors and keyboards to make sure the latest episode of ZEN IN THE CAR T.V. came to your beautiful eyes and the thrill of it along with the event of the weekend had me wired beyond belief. There was no way I was going to attempt even getting sleep for this one. After the episode was in the can I threw my joo-joo bag over my shoulder and went on my morning walk to the Deku Tree, or as I lovingly call it, “Zen Garden 2.0” and took a few hours to meditate while the sun came up above the trees. Once I had made my peace it was Pandora on the smart thingy and me making tracks around the neighborhood.

As scheduled, Jason Patrick called me around eight thirty or so to make sure I was upright and mobile. Thankfully for him I had already prepared the night before. So when he arrived with Monster in hand (sorry Berenice, I know I told you I would cut back on caffeine but I really needed it that day) I was up and ready to go. Once we piled into his truck it was off to pick our very own Curtis Sirmans up at his pad with more equipment. Like an angel floating from the heavens, Sirmans had our microphones in hand ready to roll, save a few technical errors which we will resolve. From his pad on, it was to Macon, where we would meet the Grayson caravan. As the three of us did inventory and waited for the caravan to roll in we discussed plans for the future and our goals within this movement. After about an hour we could hear the deep puttering of Harley engines thundering down the highway. That’s when the Sons of Liberty rolled in with a one Jason Turner leading the charge.

Now as all of you know, I am prone to make sidetracks in my prose and I really don’t want to do it here but I think it is noteworthy for me to say this. As many of you know, I am a very spiritual person. I believe that some people come into your life for little things like implanting an idea you have never thought of before; and then again, there are some who show up to change it forever. You know these people when you meet them and there is no doubt about it. It could be a parent, a love interest, a business partner, or someone you instantly recognize as a friend. Before continuing any further I can tell you; the moment our two mighty hands took hold of the other it was apparent this man was my brother in not only this life, but many prior and many yet to come. Sometimes Freedom and Liberty rhyme with the heartbeat of a pulse. More on that later.
After the crew assembled, Patrick, Sirmans and myself piled into Turner’s ride and ripped down highway 16 to little Louisiana. Otherwise known as Savannah. On the way, as expected; there were many philosophical conversations had within the confines of the car. It was a meeting of the minds so to speak, an iron sharpeneth iron moment. When the convoy reached the coast we all pulled to the nearest gas station to rest our legs and grab a bite. Unfortunately it was in some po-dunk town filled with the lowest of DNA from the evolutionary chain. Our good friend Jason Patrick stepped outside and as he walked towards our companions, Robert Sowell, and Bruno Rivera, he handed a couple of rednecks a Derrick Grayson flyer. The immediate response was that they wouldn’t vote for “niggers”. Yes, this type of thing still exists in the deep woods of Georgia. Ironically enough, this issue would pop up in the debates later, but all in its good time.

The crew refreshed themselves and communicated with the campaign in Savannah to set up the timing of our arrival and when everything was set it was back on the highway; back to my place of Zen. For the rest of the trip I sort of basked in the conversations my brothers in Freedom were having in the car, every now and then interjecting with my own insights. However for the most part; I know to shut my mouth when titans are sparring intellectually.
Once we arrived in downtown Savannah, and saw the absurdity of the signs from all the polished politicians, the crew was more than pumped to support Derrick Grayson. All of us were appalled at the commercialism of the other candidates. We knew Mister Grayson personally. We understood this was not career advancement or a notch in a belt. The man was running because he genuinely believed and if that was not the case not a one of us would be there. It was a sickening sight to see what the proceeds from mega corporations like Monsanto can buy when you have honest statesmen like Derrick Grayson that are running to truly represent us on a wing and a prayer. We read about David and Goliath in Sunday school; but how many of us are willing to reenact it?
Outside of the school the debates were to be hosted at, more Grayson supporters showed up with camera equipment and tools to help us spread the word. We rolled in like gangbusters and set up. Patrick and myself helped with the Grayson table as Sirmans waltzed in with his Go Pro strapped to his head. Of course on the way in Patrick was sure to catch Broun stumbling over himself with the vote on NDAA, and having every intention of catching Purdue on the way out. It was apparent from the beginning that team Zen was not there to make nice. But come on, you don’t pay us for nice do you?

After meeting with patriots such as Barbie Dunn and Ellisa Oliver, head volunteers for the Grayson campaign, the two of us found a seat to enjoy the debates. This is when the fun really began. As Patrick and I listened to the answers and questions; Jason Turner and quirky embedded reporter Sarah Westwood scrambled to see if footage was being taken. Now unfortunately the school had somehow…mysteriously blocked the live feed. And very little footage was taken from what could otherwise be described as a dynamic debate in which Grayson swept the floor.


to be continued..