Send away that day. /
That one! I don’t want it. /
It is called Monday.
Filed under 2017, Sunday silliness
And the word for your state is…?
Where do you fit in?
So, take the most-used word in a state and the most misspelled word and see what happens. For example, for Tennessee is is Chaos is the most misspelled work and Stuff the word used most often. Chaos and Stuff. Well, too much stuff can lead to chaos, and it gets more Kayotic if you can’t spell Kayos. Or California where the most misspelled word is Beautiful and the most-used work is But. Everything is Beautiful in its own way, but not necessarily Butteful. Or Kentucky, where you can be Vary Butteful.
Filed under 2017, Sunday silliness, word play, words
Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Woodstock, and friends blow in for the holiday season.
And they brought a friend and some fun.
Just when you think it is safe to go outside, to enjoy the season, to appreciate the outdoor decorations … you come across this!
Keep you distance … for if you dare and cross through the candy cane arch you will enter a world of both of silliness and air, strange lights and odd shapes, dark corners and strange surprises. You will have just crossed over … into the Holiday Zone.
Filed under holiday decor, Inflatables, Sunday silliness
[Editor’s note: both of these poems I wrote in quick fashion, a bit of silliness, a bit of fun. Taking maybe 30 minutes each, at most.]
Minister of the dart
O’ minister of the dart
whose aim is true,
sending the dart flying
threw and through.
Toward the bull’s eye
your throw did wend
with an aim so perfect
your foes became friends.
O’ minister of the dart
whose aim is true
I’ve never seen a bull cry,
until now. Have you?
Written on March 5th in response to a Facebook posting by Chris Buice, minister at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville, TN, in which he wrote about throwing the winning dart in a game that gone so long that even his opponents cheered.
_____________
That four-foot long
Put that four-foot long
back where it belongs —
don’t leave it out in the aisle.
Put back that four-foot long
with the smell so strong —
don’t leave it in a public pile.
Put away that four-foot long
you silly ding-dong —
even at Fellini we have a style.
A code we relate
no need to masticate
or pretend to be in denial.
So, put that four-foot long
back where it belongs —
don’t leave it out for public trial.
Written on March 9th in response to a Facebook posting by Brian Griffin about being in the Fellini Kroger in Knoxville, TN. If you don’t know, you can use Google and find out all about it. There is even a Fellini Kroger Facebook page and another for Friends of Fellini Kroger. As far as anyone can tell, the Italian director never set foot in Fellini Kroger … at least not in this plane of existence.
And in case you are wondering, the four-foot long is a sausage, not a snake, though who knows, someday that may happen in Fellini K.
Filed under poetry by author, Sunday silliness
by DAVID E. BOOKER
Said the lama to the llama,
“I know not where ewe stands.”
Said the lama to the llama,
“To know would be rather grand.”
Said the lama to the llama
As they stood under the ewe tree,
Said the lama to the llama,
“O’ beast, can’t you tell me?”
Said the lama to the llama,
“You’re not like the little ewe.”
Said the lama to the llama,
“I could tell her what to do.”
Said the lama to the llama,
“Won’t you please enlighten me?”
Said the lama to the llama,
“To enlighten is to set free.”
Said the lama to the llama,
“Just one simple, single sign.”
Said the lama to the llama,
“One little sign would be just fine.”
Said the lama to the llama,
“Oh why, oh why, oh why?”
Said the lama to the llama,
“My patience you do try.”
Said the lama to the llama,
“I want an answer now!”
Said the lama to the llama,
“I should have brought a cow.”
Said the lama to the llama
After the llama spit in his eye,
Said the lama to the lama,
“I guess this means good-bye.”
Filed under poetry by author, Sunday silliness
Feeling insipid today
by David E. Booker
Feeling insipid today.
Side pain won’t go away.
My workload’s here to stay.
Yes, feeling insipid today.
Co-worker asked me out
So she can just re-spot
The things this place is about
That only make me shout:
Feeling insipid today.
You’re a pain that won’t go away.
My work life should here stay.
Yes, feeling insipid today.
Her offer I did decline,
Being of a simple mind
That re-living this place confined
Is ridiculous beyond sublime.
Gallbladder must come out.
Sits under my liver and pouts,
Feels like it’s putting out grout.
The pain just makes me shout:
Feeling insipid today.
This pain in my side’s Grade A.
My gallbladder should go away.
Yes, feeling insipid today.
If one part of the body is enlightened, is all enlightened?
Of it, I’ll make a shrine.
Next to my Buddha you’ll find
Its new home in the brine
With spirituality refined:
I’ll feel less insipid that day
Surgery will have taken away
The pain that’s made me say:
“Yes, feeling insipid today.”
Vita absurd est
That’s just my best guess
About this entire mess
That I try to digest.
Work is rife with strife
My gallbladder has a new life
Due to a surgeon’s knife
And yet it won’t suffice:
Feeling insipid today
This pain won’t go away.
My overload’s here to stay.
Yes, feeling insipid today.
[Editor’s note: been feeling a bit under the weather these past few days, so have not been at the blog entry writing as much. I hope to feel better soon. And if wondering, it is not a gallbladder issue. A draft of this poem was written long before today. I was only thinking that for the one or two people who read and enjoy (or at least tolerate) my posts, I needed to post a piece of work of some sort.]
Filed under cartoon by author, poetry by author, Sunday silliness
Sometimes when someone asks me a question, my mind goes on a rambling spree. Below is such a spree based upon an issue that came up at work. I place it here not because it is a masterwork of prose, but because sometime stuffing a response full of absurdities is the best I can do. Call it “How my mind works.”
My un-sophisticated wild donkey guess:
They (whoever they are) decide to re-open the contract for bids because they are looking for a version of the bids for separate (but equal) running of our place and the other one.
Then after another round of bids, public presentations (or whatever they are called), and an extension or two to get past the mid-term elections, the decision is made to either award one contract or two based on a giant rock/paper/scissors contest held on the National Mall between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial reflecting pool.
The entire event is MC’ed by Martha Stewart, who will show how to make origami and lovely wedding and holiday center pieces out of the loosing contract bids.
The looked inside his collapsed mind and all they found was a hollow laugh a pile of pumpkin seeds.
The losers will immediately file protests and lawsuits, claiming that the winner used disabled ringers who could only form rocks or paper with their arthritic fingers, and that bid information was leaked to retired generals by doctors’ wives and shirtless FBI agents, semaphoring in information about where the disabled ringers should stand to have the best chance of winning.
And there will, of course, be Congressional hearings at which octogenarian nuns with broken wrists will smile beatifically from the backs of the rooms as Senators and Representatives thump their chests and try to impress the doctors’ wives with their persiflage if not their perspicacity. All the while retired painters enhance the Congressional dome with a nice shade of blood red.
This event, in its entirety, will be carried live on Comedy Central, where the Daily Show will become a never-ending event unto itself, as – Thelma and Louise style – the federal government plunges over the financial cliff and into the abyss of absurdity from which it came.
We will all sit in stunned amazement, then slowly link arms as we rest on the Group W bench, and sing in slow undulation: “You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant / You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant / Walk right in it’s around back / Just a half mile from the railroad track / You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant – excepting Alice.”
Filed under absurdity, How my mind works, Photo by author, Sunday silliness
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
[Editor’s note: This is more than the headline or a line from the article, though the title is a bit odd: Girlfriend upset that parents are dating. The girlfriend of one of the parents. Dating her? I thought the title and letter/response was worth posting. It is from the “Ask Amy” advice column that appears in my local newspaper.]
DEAR AMY: My boyfriend and I have been dating for almost two years.
(Ed. note: Each other, I assume, but this point is unclear. They could have been dating several people for a total time of two years.)
We plan on getting married someday.
(Ed note: Isn’t that what they always say?)
Yesterday we found out that his mom and my dad have been secretly dating.
(Ed. note: I guess it is a secret no longer.)
Neither his mom nor my father seems to see our problem with this. But if they continue dating and decide they want to get married, doesn’t that mean my boyfriend and I would now be brother and sister?
(Ed. note: Ah, the human genome conundrum.)
Is there any way I can talk sense into them?
–Betrayed
Once upon a half-cocked notion…
DEAR BETRAYED: If you truly believe that your boyfriend’s mother and your father marrying would turn you to into siblings, then — please — do not get married and procreate.
(Ed. note: Definitely good advice.)
If your respective parents are single and available, then there is no reason they can’t (or shouldn’t) date.
(Ed. note: Except maybe the chance that they could produce a half-Betrayed child.)
However, while there is nothing you can (or should) do to prevent these two adults from dating, you do have a right to express yourselves. Mainly, you should do your best to communicate your discomfort to both parents. They should do their best to be open with you.
If these two got married and you also got married, you and your guy would become both step-siblings and spouses.
(Ed. note: and the step-mother would also be the mother-in-law and the step-father would also be the father-in-law. Think of all the money and headache that would be saved at Christmas and other holidays, especially if the young couple has children. And if the older couple has a child, too, then you have a step-child that’s stepping all over the human genome! Oh, the humanity!)
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