Who Watches the Watchmen?

by Rudolfo Carrillo

It was the first day of summer. I decided to livestream the March to End Police Brutality on a laptop in our living room. The internet network coverage was sketchy so the broadcast was interrupted on numerous occasions; I had the teevee running as well. To prevent boredom, this particular Sony Trinitron was switched on to “Doctor Who.”

I have never watched that show before, serio. All those years of the TARDIS and the Daleks and the Cybermen are mostly a mystery to me, and I was curious; I considered the potential for juxtaposition in relation to the livestreaming protest and was intrigued.

The march was civil yet passionate. The heat of our summer days can be devilish, inflammatory, but today it had no such effect on citizens who took to the streets asking for accountability, justice and tangible reform.

While all this was happening in reality, the Doctor was at the beginning of the sixth series, conspiring with President Nixon and fighting against some rather nasty, otherworldly creatures. They were a murderous, controlling lot and had a special power. This was their special power: Whenever you stopped looking at them, you forgot all about them.

This ability allowed the beings—who had large deformed heads and wore business suits—to get away with murder. By the way, the name of this fictional species of world-destroying maniacs was “The Silence.”

Anyway the protest was so peaceful and “Doctor Who” so fantastically unbelievable (compared to American stuff like “Star Trek” or “Forbidden Planet,” for example). I fell into a luxurious sleep. I dreamt of a world where authorities were responsible in their exercise of power, where government officials were accountable for events that happened on their watch and real reforms were carried out merrily in hopes of kindly serving the citizens of the state.

I also dreamt of endless plates of green chile enchiladas and heaps of fresh, hot latkes served with cold applesauce. (Hey, I’m on a diet, okay?)

When I awoke the marchers had mostly gone home; I decided to give up on Dr. Who because of continuity issues. I liked the way everyone on the show talked, though, and decided to try and incorporate that aspect of the series into my writing, for sauce. Meanwhile, a teevee news station reported a curiosity. Apparently, APD infiltrated yesterday’s march, placed an undercover agent among the hopeful humans.

The intelligence agent took photos, made himself familiar with the families and other folks gathered together, was practically invisible in mission and presence. But he was there, according to published reports, possibly following some administrator’s Nixonian agenda.

Unless I am forgetting something, that’s not cricket, I mean it’s just not on. The decades-long militarization of a municipal police force on display is one thing, but the remaking of these well-grounded protests as something espionage-worthy is either cruelly revisionist or crassly experimental.

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Otros habitantes de Albuquerque

Photo credit: Kevin Eddy 

by Rudolfo and Samantha Anne Carrillo

¡Bienvienido!

Come, come my friends, to the beautiful banks of the Rio Grande. Most of the geese are flying north, but come to Albuquerque anyway. Bask in the deceptively shallow waters of the river; you'll get a kick out of it and maybe you will be reminded that water used to flow through some of the arroyos here, too. You know the ones we mean, right? They're mostly up in the Heights and covered in concrete. 

The Heights is where they have all the restaurants. There's so much food up there and, one time, we heard about a grocery store that went on for miles, in the shadow of the mountain where they keep all the nuclear bombs.

You might think that's odd, but, when we looked around, that's what we saw. We've also seen other things you might not like to look at it. But, if you do, then maybe that will give you the final push you need to drop everything and come on out west. 

Don't worry—like we said—there is plenty of food. Water's getting scarce, though. But, if you keep an eye on things and don't expect a green lawn ... you'll be just fine.

Here's the first of what we saw this week. From the below picture, we can already tell the future is here. 

Photo credit: Metropolitan Detention Center

According to the teevee news, the above-pictured fellow—who goes by the name Felix Romero and has called this spinning ball of dirt home for 30 years—is a local who has been on at least two high-speed chases with la jura in the past five years. Just sayin'.

While, we're at it, this is the lady that was driving Romero around right before his latest flying metal, human-endangering escapade. She is called Meagan Fitzgerald, in case you want to know. She was arrested on our lovely, tree-lined boulevards for harboring a felon and possession of a dirty brown horse.

Photo credit: Metropolitan Detention Center

Speaking of evil chemical compounds, here's a picture of someone representing something that happened with the aid of methamphetamine. That mierda may be making Heisenberg rich on teevee, but it's a ruinous substance. From meth mouth to mental incoherence and bizarre manifestations of ultra-violence; speed kills, man. Example given: Timmithy Stover, 27, of Hobbs, N.M, who allegedly committed murder-death-kill after an intimate association with the poison.

Photo credit: Metropolitan Detention Center

Those are certainly heavy iterations of reality here in Burque town, but it's not always so dark. Sometimes, it's dusk or twilight. Young Billy Espinosa faced the long arm of the law when he tried to gank gear from a local policeman's home. He never had a chance, though he initially made off with a "...duty-issued 9 millimeter gun, bullet magazines, a police baton, handcuffs and even pepper spray." 

Photo credit: Metropolitan Detention Center

Then, there's the case of Terry Anderson, a woman—described by observers as a "crazy lady"—who came into contact with the boys in blue after breaking windows in the Heights. Police say they tricked her into coming out of her house; she exited wielding a baseball bat and attempted to hit a man with it. When responding officers tried to stop her, she began to swing at them and was subdued with a stun gun. 

Photo credit: Metropolitan Detention Center

Well, that's a bit like Bleak House on the Rio Grande, but you've got to admit it's kind of a hoot. The beauty of complexity and irony and all that jazz. Maybe next week we'll do this again, but with places instead of people. Don't worry. We're not about to ask the city for an office. We prefer the dark.

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