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From Gonzo Today Poetry Editor Ron Whitehead Ralph Steadman has joined GonzoFest 2015 in our efforts to Bring Bill to the Ville!! he just sent me this: RON Here is my pic of Bill MURRAY as Hunter in Where the Buffalo Roam – where it all started……….Hope you can open […]
by Melissa Chipman; reposted from Insider Louisville It’s buried in GonzoFest’s Indiegogo campaign page: potentially the most exciting part of this year’s event. But it won’t happen without your help. The folks behind GonzoFest are launching a concerted effort and a viral video campaign to convince iconic actor Bill Murray […]
by Kidman J. Williams The last fifteen years in the United States must have brought tears to the eyes of Lady Liberty; thank the Heavens that her back is turned to the rest of the countries’ woes. She looked on in 2001 as the towers crumbled down to Ground Zero. […]
Or the American Cold War Revival by Mark Linnhoefer America’s thinking of sending guns to the Ukraine… Greece almost got Russian loan… Washington scared of losing its influence in Europe… Backing the Greek now… Instigating hatred by smart siding… Extremism on the rise… Who profits?…. Ukrainian Situation getting worse… Cold […]
By Kyle K. Mann It’s time to validate Mike Godwin. Not that he needs it, but with Obama’s obscene ramp up to the latest installment of the Endless War, or Long War as military types call it, progressives need to acknowledge the mind-frying truth: America is a fascist state. For […]
So what is Valentines Day? Where did it come from. What kind of terrible fucked up things from long ago do we now emulate in ignorance and bliss? Modern Valentine named after the Roman Christian Saint Valentine, carrying on the rituals of the old physical Roman Empire into the new […]
By Ron Whitehead GonzoFest Louisville co-founder and Chief Poetics The first time Jack Nicholson called he was furious, pissed off, screaming. It was August 1995 and my grandmother, Louverine Render, had died. Right after the funeral my family and I headed out, in a rented car, for a 5,000-mile-out-West road […]
by David Pratt Your bones tire an old soul’s tire. Done hung around far too long, Far too many lives. After millenia One gets weary of the cycle. Still something always pulls you back Into the dance for another whirl, A memory of the real, the touch of […]
by David Pratt Darby had their number. The bastards. They weren’t going to get away with it this time. He ratcheted down South Main dragging his bum leg, digging himself in the shop windows bent against the wind in a coat too thin and the ass of his pants all […]
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