Stratty Speaks! or, What I've Been Up to pre-"Election"

First real blog post. Written 11/5/24

Despite what nerds like Tom Clancy may say, writer's block does exist. Trust me, I wish I had the time and energy to publish something at least once a week. But being a young homeowner, newlywed, as well a first time dog dad has not allowed me this luxury. Not that I am complaining. I am blessed to own a home, be married, and have a cute dog. It’ll just take me a bit to get back into top shape in regards to research and writing. However, I have been thinking lately that technically this is a blog. So to give myself an excuse to write, I thought why not tell you about some things I’ve been up to going into “election” day, the topper to the worst season that comes around every 4 years. 

Before I start though, I am gonna go out on a limb and say that unless you’re a faithful reader of mine (and let’s face it, I don’t have those) chances are you are reading this after the “election.” That’s fine. I’m not gonna go too much into the “election” at all, but it’s impossible to not have some thoughts on it, so don’t worry, they are here. As I write this the results for some states are actually coming in. But who cares?

I guess I’ll start by talking about what being a married man is like. After knowing her for ten years, I finally came to my senses and decided to ask the beautiful Annastasia Michelle Lowe to take my hand in marriage last December. Then, on September 21st, 2024, I finally made her Mrs. Davis. Easily the best decision of my life.

The wedding was everything her or I could’ve ever dreamed of. Leading up to it was, of course, chalk full of stress and newfound anxieties. I mean, neither of us have been married before. Or at least, I don’t think she has? Regardless, the day of the wedding sent all that stress and anxiety someplace else. All of that is owed to my wonderful in-laws. My grandparents-in-law let us use their place up in the mountains of southwest New Mexico, providing us with the most beautiful wedding venue that we’ve always dreamed of. My sister-in-law made all the delicious sweets, including our kickass wedding cake. My uncle-in-law made the seating for the ceremony out of trees he cut down, helping emphasize the wonderful nature we were surrounded by. My father-in-law brought up some porta-potties, cause we’re all so full of shit. And last but not least, my mother-in-law ran the whole event like she was Dick Clark on New Year’s Eve.

But of course, the biggest moment was seeing my beautiful bride in her dress. I am somewhat of a traditionalist, so I was pretty stringent about not seeing her dress until she was walking down the aisle on our big day. I knew that whatever she wore I was gonna be pretty blown away by her beauty, however there are no words to describe just how much her dress really lit her, and thus me, up. I cried like a baby. 

We kept the ceremony short and sweet, just like we wanted, and then the party started. The most cathartic moment for myself came during this time though. My wife and I had been debating having a ceremonial dance with our parents (my mama, her dad) because they really aren’t the dancing type. To my own surprise, I was the one that ended up deciding we’d do it. Why? Because I found the perfect song to dance with my mama to.

My mama is a huge Rolling Stones fan, and sometimes at work when I am missing her I’ll go against my truther sensibilities and turn their music on. When “Wild Horses” by them came on and I heard the chorus, I knew I had our song. I let my mom know that if she didn’t want us to dance to that song, I’d understand since the song kinda sounds like a dark breakup song. She explained to me that Mick Jagger basically hijacked the song after another band mate wrote it about missing his son, so we were good. 

But when the time finally came for our dance, we were too overcome with our feelings from that day to really dance. All I can remember is her telling me how happy she was to hand me over to Anna. Even though it wasn’t much of one, that will always be a dance to remember.

My beautiful wife and I; my mama and I during our dance; our wedding cake.

The next morning, we woke up in a beautiful cabin, provided to us by our family. Then we hit the road to Santa Fe, for our week long getaway. Our first stop there was at a spa resort for a two day stay. And what do you know? There’s a damn puppy shelter on site. And who loves puppies more than chicks? So, of course, my wife forced us through the door of that damn shelter. Literally our first stop.

Now, since I first met my wife back in the 8th grade, I have known that she was dearly obsessed with pugs and would die to have one. And what kind of dog greets us when we first walk in? A damn pug. Of course. As soon as Anna and that cute little fucker locked eyes they were in love, and for the next 20 minutes proceeded to play around like they were at home. So I knew we had to bring him home. But we’ll come back to that. There’s one other thing I can think of from my honeymoon that I think my readers will like and that I am willing to let them in on, so we’ll cover that first.

Right off the bat, we couldn’t help but notice the art in Santa Fe. Most of it was beautiful. Actually, of the many museums we went to in Santa Fe, the Georgia O’Keefe one was my favorite, and actually provided me with some things to look into and maybe one day write about. But what stuck out to us the most in regards to the art was the numerous examples of what looked to us to be symbolism used by pedophiles. Here’s a picture I took on my phone of an example I spotted: 

Now, it’s not the best example because that does look like a regular spiral, but this was the only picture of an example I got because I wasn’t gonna make a point of documenting this stuff on my honeymoon. So you’ll have to just take my word for it when I say the majority of the examples we saw looked more along the lines of these symbols:

My wife and I are not the paranoid types. Most of the time we probably wouldn’t even notice things like this. However, we started seeing them at the spa resort, which was 30 miles outside of the city of Santa Fe. Seeing how much the symbols popped up all over Santa Fe and the area around it, my wife and I had a bad feeling when we realized how much money is  around there. That feeling became worse when we remembered that Santa Fe is New Mexico’s state capital, and where the state government operates out of. When we happened to be near the State Capitol building one day, we couldn’t help but go check it out.

Walking around the building, there wasn’t much to see. When out of the corner of my eye I noticed a statue of a head sitting on a pyramid, I was interested. When I realized there was no designated path or clear way to get you there, I was intrigued. I saw some bushes blocking the view of the statue from the sidewalk that I could easily shimmy through, so I quickly ran down to the sidewalk and popped out on the other side of those bushes in pursuit of that statue. Turns out it was a statue of DH Lawrence, and on the pyramid were some words from his work “The Prussian Officer.” I don’t know much about DH Lawrence, so it took some of the excitement out of discovering this seemingly hidden statue. Still, quite odd. 

We still had more of the capitol to walk around, so I hurried back up the steps to my wife so we could wrap it up. It wasn’t until the very end, when we got to what we think was the entrance of the building, that things got very weird. It started out really innocent. I just pointed out a statue of a group of little girls and little boys playing tug of war with each other. My wife and I walked around to the front of it, just thinking it was cute, until she looked up and noticed the serpent going upwards to what looks like the sun, the moon, and the stars. This was placed far off in the background, yet fell right in between the kids playing tug of war. The weird image we were seeing with our eyes looked like this:

When it comes to symbolism, I don’t know enough to tell you exactly what that means, but I do know enough to tell you it means nothing good. Moving on now.

After spending a whole week in Santa Fe getting to try foods at fancy dinners we may never have again, seeing the sunset from a moving train, and enjoying the night life that we don’t get back home, Sunday came. As we were packing up our bags and getting ready to leave, Anna was asking what museum I’d like to try to see before we went back home. I told her I didn’t want to go to a museum. I wanted to go get that dog. Immediately, she went to see if he was available. He was, but the shelter was closed. After making some phone calls that went unanswered, I said fuck it. We were heading back to the spa resort.

As soon as we walked into the shelter, the lady working remembered us, as well as that cute little fucker we came back for. She made some phone calls for us, and put in a good word. All we had to wait on now was a call back from the head honcho at the shelter. We went to a parking lot and just sat, waiting with more anxiety than I had ever felt before. I wasn’t scared to have a dog of our own. I just really hoped it was gonna happen. Then my wife got the call. He was coming home with us. 

Anna and I agreed on the name Griswold because we love the National Lampoon’s Vacation movies. My mama thought that was perfect since we were on vacation. While it wasn’t the specific type of baby my mother-in-law was hoping we’d come back from the honeymoon with, she loves our baby boy all the same. Griswold loved his new home right on the first night. We were all happy to be home, but it wouldn’t be long until Anna and I were off on our next adventure, this time to Denver near the end of October.

Griswold on his way to his new home

Flying to Denver less than two weeks before the “election” had me a little curious and cautious. The last time I came here was for my annual NFL game road trip with my best friends from high school. I loved the trip, but hated the city. My wife and I had made plans for this trip back in the summer, to see a show and spend time with some dear friends. At the time, I didn’t realize I was planning on being in such a big and progressive city not too long before America’s fake festivities in the name of fascism. It’s not that I was scared, but seeing the homeless population that Denver has to offer is enough for my wife’s gorgeous eyes. I didn’t want her to have to see cops bashing people’s heads in, or adults acting like children in the name of “politics.” 

It’s times like these I am grateful for the fact that I am an anarchist. I forget how much “election” season gets everyone into a hysteria that is hypnotic. People ditch their true personalities in whatever ways necessary in order to fit in or even quell their own fears politically. It’s pathetic. 

Going back to the NFL, that’s how I get when watching their games, but only because it feels good to be a part of something bigger than you with people getting the same feelings out of it as you are. With something as meaningless as football, it’s easy for me to step in-and-out of my Dallas Cowboys die hard alter ego, so it’s one of the few distractions I allow myself. 

With people and their politics, there are no alter egos. Their politics become their personalities. When these personalities become manifest during the fast times of fascist America, I can’t help but think about how politically ignorant most Americans are really. Sure, they understand the social constructs of being a Republican or Democrat, and they have down the roles they must play. But that’s all American “politics” is: a social construct that gives us roles to fill and play. And why? So that we don’t notice what’s really going on behind the scenes. If we began to notice that both parties agree on the issues that really fucks us over (such as endless wars, endless spending and taxing, along with more laws to kill our liberties) then we would begin to realize that our “elected” officials from the seemingly two different parties are actually friends that are in the same big club that we ain’t in. That’s not good for business, especially big business, which is who the American government works for to the detriment of us.

Enough of that, though. We had just landed at Denver Airport. The biggest in the US, and chalk full of conspiracies that I have paid zero mind to. Being small town kids, my wife and I had no idea how to navigate this airport that felt like an indoor city. Once we got to baggage claim and saw our friend Alexa come through the doors leading to the parking lot, we were more than relieved. Quickly, we hit the streets.

Right off the bat, she informed us that Trump had held a rally there earlier that week. Good, I thought. That means all the chuds and radicals would be too burnt out to stir up any significant trouble while we were there for just two nights. Meaning there would be plenty of peace while Alexa showed us around Denver.

Alexa is an artist, and I mean legit artist. I feel like I have to say that because so many people like to call themselves that, but not many put the balls to the wall and take the dive to really be one. Alexa has. Her and her man Michael, who is well versed and active with his passions as well, jumped out of the small pond of Hobbs, New Mexico into the big sea that is Denver, Colorado and have made something of themselves.

So when Alexa told us the first place she wanted to take us to was her art studio, we were more than happy to go check it out. Before getting there, she informed us that she shared the studio with two other artists, so when we got there I was genuinely in awe of how all three of their works seemed to blend so well together. After looking around for a minute though, their specific styles started to shine through, and then I could recognize the art my friend made. Recognize is a bad word to use though, because while I was impressed with her work back in high school, and could tell these newer pieces were hers, I was in disbelief at how much it had improved. I truly think she should call herself a pro. 

Then she took us to see a mural she got to be a part of. We had seen it in pictures, but seeing it in person gave Anna and I a bigger thrill, and made us feel even more proud of her friend. Her part in the mural is so her. The art from others surrounding her piece really complimented her work as well. I’m sure getting to be a part of something like this that you put actual work into and get positive results out of is quite the feeling. 

Anna and Alexa standing underneath Alexa’s part of the mural.

There was one piece of hers I must admit I was jealous of, only because it shows she has welding skills, and that’s something I wish I could say I was capable of. But I’m not. Especially not capable of welding metal into art but Alexa is. 

The first night in Denver, we went to the show together and then went bar hopping afterwards. The next day was what I was really excited for. I was supposed to see Coors Field (have you figured out I’m one of those “dumb jocks” yet?) and take a tour of it last year during the NFL trip with my friends, except my retarded friends forgot to buy the tickets in time. Well, it’s a good thing women are great planners, because I made sure Anna had the tickets before we even left our house to go to Denver. 

Coors Field is quite the baseball stadium. The Colorado trees and greenery in the outfield that serves as a background for the hitters to see the ball batter is, to me, unmatched by any of the others I've seen at stadiums on TV or in pictures. I also have to say their scoreboard, which is in the shape of the Colorado Mountains, is at least the very least tied with the scoreboard in Kaufman, home of the Royals, for being the most bad ass in the MLB. Getting to be in a major league locker room and sit in the Rockies dugout was the real treat. Actually, it was sort of a dream come true for the little boy in me. And anyone who knows me knows I was more than happy to answer every question the tour guide asked us in regards to the Rockies and baseball history, every single one of them correctly I might add. The best part? I’m not even a Rockies fan. I like the Rangers. My favorite interaction with our tour guide was when I made him laugh by asking him if he regrets the Rockies trading away Juan Pierre to the Marlins. He said yes. 

“To all the kids out there: follow your dream. Believe in your dream. Because dreams do come true.” - Rickey Henderson

Alexa, Anna, and I on Coors Field. Bad ass scoreboard in the shape of the Colorado Mountains behind us.

Not much has been happening at home since, but maybe that’s a good thing. A lot of the guys I used to hangout and party with may find this shocking, but I actually enjoy slowing down and settling in in life. I am embracing becoming a family man because I find so much gratification in it. More than I’ve found elsewhere. Like for my birthday, which was this past Sunday (fun fact: I was born in 2000, an “election” year, and my mama voted for Bush from the hospital bed. Don’t blame her, she was pregnant with my dumb ass and that probably influenced her decision.) I decided I’d rather go spend a quiet weekend with family, enjoying the Cowboys game with them and just hanging out in general. So that’s what I did, and I was filled with love. That’s not something you’ll typically feel up in the club or out at the ball game, even on your birthday. 

From the cake with the Dallas Cowboys star on it, to the sweet cards I was given that were written with words that could only make my heart melt, it was more proof that this is the life for me. Of course, the gifts helped too! I gotta brag on Anna really quickly in this department, because she really does shine here. The first book I got for my birthday was “Weird Scenes Inside the Canyon” by David McGowan, an author whose work I became fascinated with earlier this summer, and who has honestly been an inspiration for me to continue researching and writing. The next book I got though was the real shocker. I’ve been trying to find a reasonably priced copy of “Hand of Death: The Henry Lee Lucas Story” by Max Call since I came across it as a source used in one of McGowan’s books. The cheapest copy I can recall ever coming across online was around $150, so naturally I thought I was probably never gonna get a hard copy of this book. Boy, could you imagine the look on my face when I took the book out of its wrapping. Anna somehow found it for $15 from some online bookstore in New York, the same place she bought the McGowan book from. And don’t think about asking me what that website is, that secret stays between me and my wife!

Those books will be perfect reading for the winter, which is my favorite time to just stay in and do things around the house. It’s probably a good idea to be doing a lot of that this winter, as we will surely be dealing with one side of America’s lemmings unleashing their anger at the other side of America’s lemmings upon all of America as a whole. 

While I’d like to wrap this up very nicely, as my sweet wife says I do with my serious pieces, but it’s getting late on “election” night in America, and since I know I’m gonna have to hear a lot of post-”election” BS tomorrow, I should really get some rest in order to have the energy and patience to deal with that. 

However, in tribute to Chevy Chase, who played Clark Griswold, who Anna and I named our dog after, I will leave you with this: that’s the news. Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.