It’s so hard to grow up when your parents aren’t growing, too.
Filed under cartoon by author, nine year old philosopher, Philosopher
Touch not what I touch,
hoping only to feel worlds
and none of yourself.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Mr. Dupree makes some points well worth considering.
The “health care summit” was every bit the useless exercise we all expected. Depending on your position, you saw what you wanted to see. But clearly, there’s no future in seeking compromise with the Pubs, who are too busy salivating over their chances in November to do anything positive. It’s time to pass health care reform the only way possible: through the reconciliation process.
Pubs and their fellow crawlers are already howling, because they know it’s possible – even easy. After all, that’s how they passed Dick Cheney’s two big tax cuts. Oops, I mean George W. Bush’s. Or maybe I don’t. They damn near got the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge okayed for oil drilling the same way: reconciliation, which smooths the way through the Senate and does away with the 60-vote requirement to cut off debate. But now they’re talking about how this process subverts the will of the…
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Filed under Uncategorized
Sometimes, there’s just no accounting for taste.
I tell ya, I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. I just got back from my quarterly beating … I mean meeting with my accountant. We went over my deductions as a writer. He said I should be careful what I claim. After we’re done and I’m leaving, he leans over and tells his partner, “He writes books nobody will read and checks nobody will cash.”
Since when did accountants become book critics? Cook ’em, yeah, but read one and have an opinion? Next time he puts his two cents in, I’ll make sure it’s in the right column, the one for trash. I know only too well where that one is.
Filed under cartoon by author, Monday morning writing joke
I edit, write, design, edit, even do some the photography for a neighborhood newsletter for the historic neighborhood in which I live. Below is what I am working as part of the newsletter. I did not take the photos, but have cropped and processed them. They were color. They are now black and white, because the newsletter is printed in black and white.
Some of my neighbors went on rafting trip a couple of months back and the photos are from that day trip. The poem, “The Captain said,” is mine.
Neighbors Lauren Rider (left) and Pete Creel (right) head into some rough waters.
The boat is fine, the captain said;
he said it to our face.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
the river sets the pace.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
and then he said no more.
The boat is fine, the captain said
as we sailed away from shore.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
as the river tossed us about.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
as some of us wanted out.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
steering for the roughest part.
The boat is fine, the captain said;
he’d said it from the start.
The boat is fine, the captain said
as the waves thumped into the boat
The boat is fine, the captain said
as some of us tried to float.
The boat is fine, the captain said,
Come back again next year.
The boat is fine, the captain said —
but captain, I hope you’re not here.
Pete Creel takes an unplanned dip in the river.
Pete said the best place to sit on the raft was in the center, but two people had quickly seized those seats before he and Lauren could get in. He said he also felt that at times the captain / person steering the raft, aimed for the roughest patches of water to make sure he and the other members of the crew got their money’s worth in experience.
Filed under neighborhood, newsletter, poetry by author, writing
Superstorm Sandy was not the only ill wind to blow ashore this recent election season.
Filed under cartoon by author, Freeform Friday, political humor
Clouds lumped together;
left over from the night’s tears.
Dreams stain the morning.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
The blathering idiot had not done well in the one debate held on a public access channel in North Dakota. It had gone so poorly that nobody, even among the few Pro-Accordion Party supports in North Dakota remembered seeing him on the stage. Even the green Party candidate received more recognition.
The most notable thing that anybody could remember about the blathering idiot’s performance was that he had vowed to have accordion jazz music played at his inauguration. But even the one reporter covering the debate could not remember that it was him, the blathering idiot, who had said it. Only that somebody had said it and that it was the funniest line of the entire debate.
The blathering idiot had not intended for it to be funny.
But even Lydia had said it sounded funny to her, at least the way he had said it. Xenia said she had laughed out loud, time and time again, when she watched that clip of the debate on YouTube. That part of the debated was about t go viral, she said.
The blathering idiot did not think viral sounded good. He was pretty sure that meant terrible, but he was too afraid to ask. He was afraid that it would mean that his off-again, on-again girlfriend, Zoey, was right – that he would never amount to much.
That thought was still running through his head when the consultant walked into his motel room. He walked right up to the blathering idiot and said, “I have the answer.”
Lydia looked excited. Even Xenia looked a little excited. The blathering idiot did not feel excited.
“We don’t have much time, so we have to strike out in a new direction so we can stand out. You have to have a whole new image. Something that says: rugged, ready, pro-gun, pro-self-defense, professional in everything you do, which will appeal to the men, but also something that says, ‘I’m a man’s man.’ Chiseled features, rugged good looks. Something that will appeal to the ladies. And after all, they are the ones you really need to impress to get elected to the highest office in the land.”
The blathering idiot glanced at Lydia who nodded slightly. He glanced at Xenia who shrugged her shoulders as if to say all this boy-girl stuff was boring her.
The blathering idiot swallowed and said, “Okay. What do you have in mind?”
“A complete makeover.”
“Complete?”
“Exactly.”
“What will I look like when you’re done?”
“We’re done,” the consultant said. “You have to believe in this, too, or it won’t work.”
“Okay. What will I look like?”
“Do you believe in this?”
“I guess.”
“Do you believe in this?” The consultant’s voice was louder.
“Yes.”
“Say it again.”
“Yes,” the blathering idiot said.
“Louder.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I believe!” the consultant shouted.
“Yes, I believe!” the blathering idiot shouted.
“Here, then,” the consultant said, “is what you will look like as a candidate after I … I mean … we complete your makeover.”
He slapped a photo in the blathering idiot’s lad.
For a second, the blathering idiot was afraid to look, but then slowly he tilted his head down and looked at the photo. What he saw in his lap surprised him, shocked him, and then sent a shiver down his spine.
He closed his eyes and hoped he would awaken in Oz or even Kansas.
The blathering idiot’s new image.
Filed under blathering idiot, political humor, Pro-Accordion Party
There once was a woman ill from Ohio
whose love life was in complete spiral.
She took to her bed,
pulled the pillows over her head:
her boyfriend had voted across the aisle.
Filed under poetry by author, political humor, Sunday silliness
I wanna go home
where the buffalo roam
all about the loam,
and the troll and the gnome
eat crumpets from a comb
and the strumpets of Rome
read erotica from a tome
and wait for you at home
where the fun’s allowed to roam
wild as strumpets on a comb
and crumpets on the loam
and buffalo with a tome
thundering about the streets of Rome.
I wanna go home.
“…strumpets read erotica from a tome….”
Filed under Freeform Friday, Photo by author, poetry by author
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