Mr. Beer 'N Hockey's Saturday Afternoon Story

He'sTryingToTellUsSomethingAboutOurLives

ToGiveUsInsightBetweenBlackAndWhiteVille

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Update: Sunday @ noon: Beer has written letters to both Mayor Robertson and the Occupiers.... The sentiments and the words are very wise, indeed....Please read them.

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Over the next few days and weeks there will be all kinds of derision, finger-pointing and calls for recriminations over what has happened at Occupy Vancouver.

But I am willing to bet that very few, if any, of those 'reports' will get to the heart of the matter the way Mr. Beer 'N Hockey did last night.

In case you do not know Beer well there are a few things you need to know about him before you read his story, which is not an easy thing to get through precisely because it matters so much....

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First, Beer is an old punk rocker.

Second, Beer is a professional first-aid attendant.

Third, Beer knows what is what with the world and he speaks his mind freely. This means that he does not censor either his thoughts or his language when he writes.

And fourth, Beer can flat-out write.

Here is his prelude:

....Had lunch, had a couple cold ones, loaded the Hammer into the car, kissed Sonja good-bye and headed into Dope City for an afternoon at the Occupation. After listening to the traffic report I put (Lou Reed's latest) "Lulu" in the cd player. F*ck that a**hole at the CBC, my rock 'n' roll animal sounds just f*cking fine with Metallica as his band. The two cd set had reached its second to last track, "Dragon," as we entered the east side. Always the sh*tf*cking heroin. I always go into Dope City along Hastings. I refuse to avert my eyes from the real fucking world. As we rolled ever so slowly along I saw a young Indian woman standing in her pyjama bottoms at the entrance to the Chelsea Inn. Of course she had a cell phone in her hand. I did not know what it was but I got the feeling something creepy or something worse than creepy was going, or about to go, down....

And here's the rest of the story:

"....Nobody who wants to make a better world should ever, ever walk alone.

Not long after making that observation I was feet away from where the sh*t went down. As I predicted, and feared, a few days ago, somebody died. I backed off to what I thought was a respectful distance from where I watched the paramedics do their work and saw a few Occupants tussle with some press who were not as respectful with their unwanted presence as I. Tried to revive her for twenty minutes before they gave up, though radio reports I heard later on said she did not die until after she had reached hospital.

All this happened minutes before DOA were scheduled to play on the old courthouse steps. Does Death, that most inevitable motherf*cker of all, follow around those punk rock motherf*ckers like a hungry dog follows a man carrying around a bag of rotten meat, or what? In time the assembled crowd were asked if they would prefer if DOA did not play as we mourned our dead comrade.

In the finest of punk rock traditions, we danced on her motherf*cking grave. "

So.

When you see, read and hear all the self-righteous statements from people who should know better in the coming days and weeks please remember that none of that blather really matters because, in the end, as Beer makes crystal clear, we are all in this together.

OK?

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And, ya, I did miss one where I should have inserted the star at the top the '8' key on the board, above....I may not be able to write as well, or speak my mind as freely, as Beer but I can darn well try....At least a little.

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