Off the Beaten Path, Captivating and Unique

Off the beaten path, captivating and unique books, poetry and commentary by Michigan author and poet Richard Rensberry.

Todays post is an excerpt from MAGA Bigfoot which is available in its entirety at Off the Beaten Path Website

CHAPTER 11 THE DRUG CREEPS

In the rural countryside where we reside, we are being invaded by chains of marijuana dealerships. Their gummy storefronts are popping up on every corner faster than even Starbuck’s or MacDonald’s franchises. Actually we don’t even have a Starbuck’s within fifty miles of where we live. We do happen to have one MacDonald’s in the area, but that lonely MacDonald’s has been eclipsed by three newly opened marijuana stores. These pot dispensaries are all within just a few miles of our small, rural, Northern Michigan town. Add to that the many prescription drug dealerships that have already metastasized like cancer on our once peaceful, rural lives. My Bigfoot Guardian is in awe of our growing stupidity. I am too.

I grew up in the sixties, an era when our college campuses became free rein to the world’s drug cartels. On any given day or night I could have purchased a bag of Columbian Gold or Panama Red, a brick of hashish, a bundle of Thai sticks, and you name it. The college dorms smelled like opium dens. If that didn’t satisfy our University appetites, we could acquire hits of meth, peyote, LSD, or synthetic mescaline. Taking these drugs was deemed as mind expanding. No wonder we now have the insanities of Anthony Fauci and Bill Gates in our world.

This diversity of drugs migrated into the college chemistry labs and came out as pharmaceuticals and designer drugs. Pharmaceutical drug cartels are now at the helm of our medical fields, both physical and mental. We’ve got Pfizer, Astra Zeneca, Johnson and Johnson, Merck and a wealth of others clamoring to administer every chemical under our now dimmed sun. If you still give in and turn on the television, you know what I mean. The drug ads are relentless. You can get a prescription that can induce any multitude of disabling side effects. As they say, just ask your doctor.

The other day I ventured out to eat at a restaurant and saw firsthand the devastation in our community. Everyone has a pill bottle and a vast array of physical and mental ailments those drugs were designed to mask. No one is being cured of anything, it is just the opposite. New pills are needed and prescribed to keep up with and treat the disabling side effects caused by the original medications. We’re becoming a nation of cripples and drug addicts.

That is not the way it should or has to be. We must learn to kick the street and corporate drug habit! Visit your nearest naturopath, chiropractor, nutritionist and local gym. Start getting real advice and real help. That is MAGA Bigfoot’s reprogramming path back to sanity and better health.

FIRST AND FOREM0ST OF COURSE, TURN OFF THE BOOB TUBE.

Find and frequent organic farms. Drink plenty of fresh water. Smell the roses and get plenty of exercise. Sounds simple, but almost no one is doing it.


Earlier MAGA Bigfoot Episodes

Conversations With Sasquatch Series

Free Kindle Copy of Conversations With Sasquatch, “The Encounter”

Merry Christmas to all my followers and readers. Today through December 25th, you can get my Conversations With Sasquatch, The Encounter eBook free from Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08N1M6RYB

This is book 1 in my Conversations With Sasquatch series. Please, I encourage you to take advantage of this Christmas special. Then upon reading my book, I also encourage you to leave a review. It will be very much appreciated. Being an Independent Author, this is the book avenue by which I survive. Thanks!

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Cover of the book 'Conversations With Sasquatch: The Encounter' by Richard Rensberry, featuring an illustration of a Sasquatch sitting on a stump in a forest setting with trees in the background.

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Excerpt from book 1 of the Conversations With Sasquatch,  series The Encounter.  

5 Chapter 5

     On my return to Big Creek, I am aware of some recent activity by other humans.  It is not only the physical signs, like the matted down grass and discarded cigarette butts, but also the remnants of their auras.  People leave in their wake good or bad vibrations that can hang around and be felt from here to eternity unless cleansed from the emotionally disturbed space.  What I am feeling at the moment is not good, and it isn’t long before I find a half dozen empty beer cans and several Twinkie wrappers scattered about.  

     I have never known beer and Twinkies to mix well with the forest.  I am hoping it is just a sign of some rebellious teenagers getting away from the claustrophobic demands of their parents, and what I am seeing is discarded pieces of their rebellion and carelessness that have been shed like the skin of a snake.  

     My hopes get permanently dashed when I find more cigarette butts and a game camera locked in place to a small sapling of birch.  There is a generous pile of untouched corn a few yards away from the lens that snaps my picture.  I stick out my tongue and give it the finger. 

     Tecumseh would throw a fit if he saw this disrespectful approach to the fine art of hunting.  I can literally hear one of his angry rants echoing through the forest as I decide what to do.

     “They leave their ugly scent behind like mangy dogs that seem to have a purpose to piss on everything,” Tecumseh rails.   “They are thankless of all but their own gratification.  I weep when I think about how the ancestors of such vile men invaded our tee-pees with their spirits of evil.   I pray our eternal wills continue to be reborn without such an abominable weakness for whiskey.”

     I look around and heft a broken hardwood bow about the size and shape of a baseball bat.   I contemplate and weigh it for my purpose.  Knowing I have been captured on the camera, I have decided prudence would be my best course of action.  

     I wind up and take a healthy cut and catch the camera square in the face.  It explodes into different pieces and is not easy to gather back together, but I find the photo chip and slip it into my pocket.  The rest of the camera pieces and every other sign of human presence, I put in my gathering bag.  All that is left is the cable and lock still wrapped around the birch.  I apologize in the name of Tecumseh and cut the cable free.  

     I then backtrack and gather the beer cans and Twinkie wrappers, finger-rake the grasses back to standing the best I can, and collect all the cigarette butts.  I am happily gratified to feel the forest rejoice.  

     With the area cleansed of trash and bad vibrations, I am able to return to contemplating my original purpose.  I had been looking forward to another philosophical melding with my Bigfoot friend, Loquius.

     I have been pondering, that if the Sasquatch are immortal beings that have roamed this planet since the beginning of time, then they have survived the endless disasters of climate change, including ice ages, volcanos, earthquakes, drought, famine, asteroids, and even pandemics.   

     Man is relatively new to the game, and what is most important in this age of narcissism, are the symbiotic relationships that have and can be further developed between man and nature; each one can enhance the other when common sense and basic ethics are applied to such things as forestry, farming, housing, and industry.  Even cities can be redesigned with regenerative energy and agriculture in mind.  Man is basically good and will strive for the greatest good for all concerned when he realizes that one lifetime is but a growing and cleansing journey for his immortal soul.  To survive, you have to learn that you do not shit in the bed to which you must return.  

     I hope to garner much more insight into what answers Sasquatch might have to help the human race as it seemingly hurtles unawares towards oblivion.  

     As I trek, I am elated to have removed the footprints of the litterbugs and their bad vibes.  The forest has returned to its harmonious songs within itself.  I hear the distant drumming of a partridge, the chatter of squirrels, and the peeping of some snipes at the edge of a meadow filled with dancing grasses.  A porcupine scuttles over a log, parks it itself in a defensive posture and raises its quills as I pass nearby.  

     The walk to meet Sasquatch is over two miles of ever changing terrain.  The forest is rife with organic smells and subtle changes of temperature.  I have come to recognize many sun dappled openings verdant with ferns as well as groves of various trees.   I am traversing the edge of the hardwoods that are easier to navigate than the thick cedars, tag alders and small pines that thrive next to the creek.  

     It is on the ridge where the hardwoods turn to cedars that Sasquatch appears.  I am immediately struck by the aggressiveness portrayed in his muscular stance.  There is nothing soft or serene in his posture towards me.  My first instinct is to cut and run, but I will myself to keep my poise and hold my ground.

     He vocalizes an unearthly bugle of screeching sounds that all but rattle my bones.  Instantly, there is movement to his right and another Sasquatch appears at his side.

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08N1M6RYB

Is Kenaf Marijuana?

Kenaf Ad 3 edited

Kenaf has mistakenly been called and associated with commercial hemp and Marijuana.  Kenaf is not hemp nor even remotely akin to Cannabis Sativa; Marijuana.  Kenaf is a hibiscus, a closer relative to cotton and okra than to hemp. Continue reading