“Hello darkness, MY old friend… ” –Paul Simon in his 1991 concert in New York Central Park without Arthur Garfunkel

Well, without any of the guys to help me write this I feel like the poet without his one-man band or diarrhea rhyme songs  any of the band for that matter, but, if that’s the way it has to be, that’s the way it has to be. Like Paul Simon standing alone before thousands of people in Central Park in New York singing his hits… Well, I am now being fully-integrated honesty all alone for myself, firstly and to create a value for everyone else secondly, and to benefit all including myself, thirdly. What else is new? Nothing. Like there are no pedagogical infinities. So, again I repeat Paul Simon’s words as he said them in that concert: “Hello darkness, MY old friend.” Yes, I’ve come to be with nonmysticism again. As the words of the profits are written on the subway walls and tenament halls? Like the sounds of silent honesty breaking through. So, as I write this, I think of how every human being for a long, long time has been bamboozled in the most genuine ways and senses. When one awakens, get scared, others will too. That is a bridge of hot coals to walk on ain’t it.

So, spit in the wind, will you. Grits And Sweat is going to a whole old level, as opposed to new: More Honesty, no thrilling language here, just “old fashioned honesty and reality”, practical stuff that works. Not pragmatic, but practical. That’s what makes this a whole old level. Like gravity can be beat as a law, like nature can be beat as a force, genuinely (they cannot). Indeed, if it works, it works, and it shouldn’t be fixed if it is not broken. But if it is broken on purpose, then what? Make excuses, right? Yes.

Let’s have a war.

And when we have a war, who does it satisfy? Those who want to make problems, and want problems, from street gangs being serious in gunfight war to capitol of country gangs playing war with bombs and napalm from air conditioned “war rooms” moving thousands of “little people” troops like chess men. Well, I’m here to say that there is a slightly better way to live than that at worst. I don’t know, sanely and peacefully like little “babbitt” working class citizens at least? “Old Harry Truman sold cheap suits and dropped an atom bomb, Dr. Strangelove don’t make love, make war!!!!” Whatever floats that boat and “to survive, I made a raft out of dead monkeys… ” -Adam Sandler in a 1992 Saturday Night Live skit. “To survive, I professionally kill people.” -Most cigarette commercials when showing “in-boardroom action”. If only everything were that honest. But honesty is good for a yawn, dishonesty is funnnnnn!!!! Isn’t it oh, great and fair and balanced news-media, from local stations up to the national. Let’s all look important and sexy, and not really be those things. Or as the line in that movie “Boogie Nights” went, ‘let’s make better movies!’

So, I’ll say it here, news media men are cardboard cutouts, and news media women are want-to-be porn stars. Now that we got that out of the way, we can talk about diarrhea… Okay, Johnny Carson get hit with the banana cream pies now… And pause for a station break and identification. (Remember I am doing this full document in real time, noting pauses and all, so keep reading it gets better.)

If there’s something you need that you just don’t have, just raise your hand as the great Stax artist Eddie Floyd once said, ruffles on the shirt and all. So, here I am, fairly standing in line, and doing my thing with grits and sweat. Waiting my turn like all politicians who get elected do not, and every other freeloader who gets cuts and complains unjustly does not. So, let me tell you this, I will tell it like it is, or “ah’ mo’ tell it like it eisssss… ” So, when I became fully-integrated honesty, I became fully-integrated honesty for the full duration and the fair market value reality and fully-integrated honesty of it all.

Everything and nothing else. All at once. This is where I