A Shamus With The Nippers

She walked into the room as if she owned the place

she had eyes and legs a man could get lost in

with ruby lips, she whispered, "Are you Ace?"

I leaned back in my well worn Eames,

and gazed upon her upper beams

"Waddya want, waddya need

shut the door and make it jake."

A singing bird, she made her case

"I think I saw him kill a man,

he dumped his body in Veronica Lake."

She started to shake her many assets

but assets don't pay the rent, my friend.

I could tell she was a troubled dame

Dames I know, they're all the same.

So call the cops, I'm just a shamus

take a powder, drop a dime

use your noodle, report the crime.

the waterworks began to flow

i just sat and drank my cup of joe

the shadows played upon her mug

I could drop a dime, to shut her yap

get on the Ameche, be a lug

only one thing worse than a dizzy broad

with a runny schnozzle

was to be on the nut, without no dough

so I got on the blower, called a bo,

heard who was zotzed, the DOA

seems the dame was right, there was a death.

as I clapped on the nippers, she caught her breath

 you big hooter bean shooter

it's the big house for you

don't mess with a dick,

the best gumshoe.

*For magpietales #51

Say What!?

The next few days are going to be interesting around here. The weather service has issued a blizzard watch to warning where we are expected to get from 8 to 18 inches of snow.

Oh, joy.

Not.

So, blogging may be sporadic to none.

Okay, gonna go pull out my trusty old sleeping bag and backpack.

Tally hooooo...

This is just a facsimile of what we might expect- floating icebergs.

I'm ready for anything. : )

Poetry Potluck

click to enlarge

Homo Sapiens

a knowing man, a wise man

sometimes, I wonder

 For Jingle Poetry Potluck, week 20.

I Woudda Brung A Date

Ace Ventura

Well, how come I weren't invited to the killing fields? Sounds like the Safari Club had a rootin' good time, all dressed up in dead animals and wearing theys cammaflodge rainmant.

And by golly, the p,pi... Palin with lipstick was the guest speaker. Dang it all.

Well, what did she say, what did she say?

Same ol', same ol'. It's good to sacrifice the animals for some gas in our Range Rovers. Mighty good, indeed.

And don't ferget, them lefty liberals is takin' away all our killin' rights. Dang socialists.

Now, why do you think I weren't invited?

*Source, Andrew Romano/Newsweek

Night Moves

Yaaaaawwwwnnnn...

I did nothing today, except taxes, BOOOOOOO! and watch old TV shows and surf the internet.

I even turned down a date. What the hell is wrong with me? Ah, don't answer that. It would take up too much space.

I am now watching a movie that is so disgustingly awful, I can't turn away. Corky Romano. Ick.

Anyway, back to those old TV shows and fashion.

What happened in the seventies where any sense of fashion went bye-bye? It is laughable and cringe-inducing to look at David Cassidy with his mullet and floral shirts.

I like the show, Gidget, with Sally Field. I even would wear today some of the clothes she wore then.


Um...so, how are those Republicans doing creating jobs? Mmm, pretty quiet.

Oh, and the man who was fired for wearing a Packer's tie and then hired by another dealership, is doing great. He's selling cars and the phone is ringing off the hook (that means the phone is ringing quite a bit, for you kids who have never seen a landline phone)

Speaking of landline phones... do you still have one? I don't.

Okay, I'm either going to bed or taking the next watch.

Night : )

A Message To A Lowlife

I wonder if my sense of foreboding lately has been because I know he is watching us?

Last night my neighbor stopped by to inform me that he had been burglarized. He was asleep when this creep came into his home and took money and his laptop.

A few weeks prior to this event, our little mom and pop store had been broken into in the middle of the night.

This guy is bold. It was around 7am when he broke into my neighbor's house. There are plenty of people around during that time since there is a day care center on our street and parents are dropping off their children. My neighbor's girlfriend had just left for work, so this guy must have been watching for some time their habits.

It is frightening to think there is someone watching us, waiting to take.

He may not stop at just taking things.

As for that laptop... Use it asshole. My neighbor will know where you are.

I hope he (sorry, just assume it is a he) is caught soon. I haven't been sleeping well, lately.

Always The Last To Know

About that windows vs. a/c myth, lie, falsehood...

Sue J had a post about driving with her windows down in the blast of an Oz summer. I replied that I was under the assumption that a/c was more fuel efficient rather than driving with windows down. Sue J. replied that, no, I was wrong, wrong, wrong.

I looked around to corroborate my claim.

Well, hell's bells. Seems to be a myth, but the jury is still out, sort of. While reading Dan Sorenson's article in the Chi/Trib he notes, "Authorities agree on this... there is no single answer."

Great.

Sorenson did go on with variables and miles per hour and....sigh.

Sue J. mentioned Topgear for her information. I've never seen the show, but I have watched Myth Busters. It's one of those shows I watch in marathon bites.

Let us view....

Bloggity, Bloggity, Blog

This pub is open

Amazing how I spend so much time on a subject (beer) that is not a part of my life, but, I love pubs. I like the look of pubs and patrons that imbibe, rather than the wares they sell.

Reading Wiki, I thought it was interesting about how the pub signs came about. Back in the day...way back, everyone could sell their ales, to let visitors know they could buy a pint, the citizens put some foliage on a pole to show they were open for business. In 1393, King Richard mandated that pubs or ale houses must display a sign outside their establishment. Since most of the peasantry were illiterate, colorful and unique signs were born. In Crowborough, the Crow and Gate Pub was depicted with a crow with gates as wings.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I find this phenomenon rather amusing and a bit sad. There are some bloggers, I have noticed, who write sporadically. They may write a post every two or three weeks, and when they do it's about trivial shit, like their toe nail polish doesn't match. Without fail, they will receive a dozen comments like, "OMG, OMG, that's happened to me too!!"


It's funny and harmless, but then I see bloggers who write articulate and thought- provoking posts and you can hear the virtual cricket chirp. It's like high school with their fucking cliques. Ah, well.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Is it true that a movie with a PG-13 rating can use the f-bomb once, but if they use it more than once they get an R rating? Apparently the 'King's Speech' uses the word 13 times. I'm not clear on all the specifics but in order to show the movie to youngsters, the powers that be, plan on editing the movie and taking out the fucking word.

Yeah, kids shouldn't be exposed to such a fucking awful word.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You know what I like about not being married? Saturdays. Saturdays and chores around the house. Screw that.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I think I know why I wrote such a dark poem the other night. I've been watching 'Criminal Minds' It just seems to be on and I watch it. It's a show that tries to outdo the violence and vicious brutality by showing happy families being massacred. I guess we are supposed to feel shock and rage. Well, I do feel that sometimes- at the writers and their need to nauseate the viewing audience. I recall back in the day, not too far back, where every crime show had the obligatory rape scene. Every detective's secretary or wife was brutally attacked. Awful and gratuitous violence.

I guess I could change the channel, eh?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It's funny to see which one of my posts has the largest page views. I am pretty sure it's because of the title I chose. The post was just a blip of information, nothing new or extraordinary. I've actually been thinking about deleting it. Funny and annoying.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mister Muleboy had a funny post (me thinks so) about Michele Bachmann. She's one of those good-looking brunette, conservative, clones I wrote about.

She's an idiot.

I do recall Mister Muleboy giving me some advice about politicians  after my emotional rant towards some of their neanderthal beliefs (Rebecca Kleefisch)  Coming from a Democratic upbringing, Bachmann had a conversion whilst reading 'Burr' by Gore Vidal. Hmm... we have something in common. I too, have read 'Burr.'  Strangely, I had no epiphany, although Jefferson didn't come off too well.

Last but not least... I just want to mention seven names, seven brave and honorable explorers who lost their lives twenty five years ago (January, 28th)  It was devastating, watching it happen. It seemed unreal, but after several moments of silence, we knew.

Listening to an astronaut this morning on a radio talk show, he described their last moments. They did not die in the initial explosion, but from the impact when they fell to Earth. In those last moments, they did everything they had been trained to do, certainly knowing their fate.

Ellison S. Onizuka

Sharon Christa McAuliffe

Greg Jarvis

Judy Resnik

Michael J. Smith

Dick Scobee

Ron McNair

Place Your Bets!

Oh, Friday, Friday, kiss, kiss.

This is a funny cam. Old Man Winter is standing on Lake Nipmuc in Mendon, Ma. You can bet on the month, date, hour and minute, you think  the old man will fall in the lake.

We do the same here, only it's with Ram trucks and fishing huts. There's always one a year.

Tickets are $5 and you can buy them at the post office or senior center in Mendon.

Love it.

lakenipmuc.org

Shiny Girls

They found the girl, an angel pose

reaching for her mother's hand?

perhaps, she knew with struggled breath

surrendered with one startled gasp

why me, why me, what have I done?

thoughts pushed back, in layered veils

evil only travels with desperation

not with shiny girls

dance card filled with ambition's demand

idle hands, the devil's work

Is that not what they say,

then why?

He looks upon in sated heaves

as dead as she, a nothing form

he asks not why,  gives to the need

the prey he chooses, their confident gaze

he seethes with rage, his duty bound

in twisted hemp, he steals all hope

the shiny girls

the shiny girls

it's in his hands,

their lives, the rope.

Happy Friday. Went a little dark. Must be the mean reds knocking.

g

A Midwestern Day And Night And Day

For me, the amount meant nothing. It was the look on my mother's face that scared me.

The snow kept coming down. By evening, on this day, forty four years ago, 23 inches of snow had fallen in Chicago and surrounding suburbs.

The phone never stopped ringing. Neighbors were stranded, children waited for parents to come home.

The snow had started the previous morning and did not stop. Over 50,000 cars were abandoned on highways. Over 50 people lost their lives, many due to heart attacks by shoveling snow. In Chicago a young girl was killed when she came between cross fire among police and looters.

It was beautiful and it was frightening to view the snow from my bedroom window. I never doubted that my dad would make it home, but, still... It wasn't until I heard the stamp of heavy boots and mom and dad talking in the kitchen, I could breathe again.

Safe.

On February 5th, another ten inches of snow fell.

No one moved to Florida. No one complained. We took it in stride, and told our stories.

I can never leave this place called the Midwest.

I look out my window and watch the snow...

*Wiki source, Chi/Trib and my own memory of that day in 1967.

A Piece Of Cake

From Emma's Delights and Crikey Bites, Seattle, Wa.
Photo by henry alva

Cake is good.

But... it seems like every week now, at work, we must celebrate the joy of one's birth.

By eating gooey, sweet, calorie laden tooth killers.

Cake is good because it's a treat, not meant to be a part of a regular diet. But it would be down right rude to refuse a slice or slab. The celebrated one will feels slighted. I sense this, so I eat the cake.

Have you seen cakes lately!? They are orgasmic creations. I still recall when moms brought in their cakes for the fun fair cake walk. They looked round. (not the moms, although...) They were chocolate or vanilla. Some moms got uppity and added a sugary rose or two.

But, now... works of art.

A friend bought a lovely looking cake from a co-worker who was making cakes on the side to supplement her income. I guess you can buy the frosting in sheets and then you fold and bend and color them into edible delights. If you like to eat a bag of sugar, then these cakes are for you. The cake maker is also a nurse, which should come in handy.

On Flickr, there are 2,863,000 photos of cakes. Oh, and the obligatory rock band named 'Cake.'

There is no end to the work cake walk.

Do potato chips counteract the effects of sugary goodness?

Squirrels, Weasels and A Hare

Photo by "w"

I rarely drink and when I do, it's a glass or two of wine. My skin and internal organs were saturated with beer fumes when I was younger. I usually cannot even stand the smell of beer. But, on occasion, a cold, cold glass of beer on a hot summer night. Fabulous.

We have quite a few microbreweries in Wisconsin. My favorite is the New Glarus Brewery near Madison. It was founded by Deborah Carey, the first woman to found and operate a brewery. Her husband is the master brewer.

I once gave my former boss a six pack of Fat Squirrel for Christmas and after that he'd ask me to buy him more, since the brewery only distributed the beer locally.

What got me thinking about beer was because I just read that Walgreens is going to sell its very own label, called 'Big Flats.' No offense, Walgreens, but that just does not sound  like something I'd buy. Big Flats!? A six pack will sell for $2.99. Ugh.

Speaking of ugh. As I was looking for a photo of the Fat Squirrel beer, I came across a brewery in Scotland that sells very strong beer... in a squirrel. BrewDog actually took roadkill (so they say) and inserted a bottle of ale inside. 4 squirrels, seven weasels and one hare are now dinner conversations. Each bottle was $765 and only the 12 bottles were made. Only!? I did see a picture. Not a happy place. : (

Their beers have 55% alcohol by volume. Strong stuff.

I may try that Big Flat beer just to prove that I can be fair and unbiased towards a company that sells adult diapers and reading glasses.

*This font makes Big Flats look like Big Rats. Would have been really funny, but no, it's f l a t.

Caww Caww

Hmm... I just wonder- why do some scientists believe other planets cannot sustain life?
What do they consider a living thing? Organisms, cells, water... Can't life be in other forms?

Stephen Hawking thinks there may be life elsewhere.

He's smart.

Good grief. Billionaire, Patricia Kluges is broke. Allegedly. She has skipped out on paying bills. Her gigantic mansion which had a selling price of $100 million has been downgraded to a mere $24 mil.

I like crows. I think they are beautiful and intelligent birds. And, contrary to movie lore, they do not attack and eat out people's eyes whilst they are still breathing. They do clean up the roadkill. Unfortunately, West Nile Virus has taken its toll on the wonderful birds. Too sad.

Did you hear about the guy who was fired for wearing a Packer's tie to work? When John Stone walked into the Webb Chevrolet dealership (he was a salesman) his boss, Jerry Roberts, told him to take off the tie or else he would be fired. Stone thought he was joking and went back to work. Robert's came back and noticed him still with tie and fired him.

At first I thought there must be something else, but the idiot boss admitted that was why he sacked the dude.

The good news is once the story got out, Stone was quickly hired by a competitive dealership in Homewood. Go there, and not you know where.

On this day, back in 1905, the Cullinan diamond was found in Pretoria, South Africa. The manager, Frederick Wells was about to leave the mine when he was sort of blinded by a light. 18 feet below the surface shined 3,106.75 carats. The Cullinan was given to King Edward VII on his 66th birthday and the diamond is a part of the Royal Treasure trove. I wonder if the lovely Kate will someday wear the 530 carat interchangeable bauble?

I don't like B&B's. They are kind of creepy. Maybe I just haven't been to a good one. Seems I get the funny smelling, cat infested, trinket overdosed, saggy, baggy bed type B&B's.

According to a post on ugb's lovely blog, bananas are radioactive. I wonder if they glow in the dark?

Okay, have a good day. Be kind to the bastard that annoys you. It's not the situation that sucks, but how we react to it that makes us what we are.

*Tie story pretty much everywhere. Try Chi/Trib. Cullinan from Wiki. I don't remember where I got that other stuff. From my head, mostly.

Magpie #50

magpietales.blogspot.com

"That's the wrong way dear."

"This is the way, have no fear"

"I've spotted that tree three times before."

"Sweet cheeks, I do know what I'm looking for."

"Then why do we pass the same old man?"

"You are seeing things, my pudgy Fran."

"Look old man, this car does speak. Just set the location and we'll get there."

"I was a boy scout, Frannie, mine. My inner compass works just fine."

"Your inner map has got us lost. It's too late now, let's just go home."

"Where's your sense of adventure, the joy to roam?"

"You killed that dream with your stubborn streak."

"My heart is broken, the way you speak."

"Perhaps what's broke is not your heart, but that inner compass, you silly fart."

"I will get us there, don't you worry."

"Wave to the old man, we're friends now, Murray."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop and ask, just one more try, one more go."

"I knew I should have married Joe."

I Wanna, Too

Back in the day, when I would climb out my bedroom window at the tender age of four, to peruse the neighborhood, I also liked to sneak into Dad's garage and look into the mysterious boxes a relative had left long ago. I loved the beautiful postcards that had glitter and when you pulled the side tab, the little windows on houses would open. This long lost relative also liked music, because there were boxes of old 78's that were as thick as magazines. I saw names like Caruso and Chopin. It was a frustrating find because our house was never filled with music, until....

We all sat in the tiny bedroom. Mom, held a baby, while me and my older sis got as close as possible to the record player to listen to a new group. Dad sat in the living room, grumbling about the long haired freaks.

So, I have to thank my very uncool mom for introducing us to a life long love of the Beatles. My older sis never really got the Beatle fever. But, me and mom....

'I Want To Hold Your Hand' was #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1964.

Thanks, mom.

*I'd post the youtube song, but EMI is quite bitchy about sharing. Bollocks.

Classy artwork, eh? He-he. No time, no time.

Home Stand

I know it sounds so cliched when I write that where I was raised, it was just farmland and marsh.

My parents lived in the same house for over fifty years. Our neighborhood was once scoffed at by the adjoining mucky mucks. We lived on the wrong side of the tracks, until... developers came in, buying and building on every foot of beautiful land. Then, the land my parents lived on for all those years was suddenly worth something. The movers and shakers wanted it.

There was a farmer in our area who refused to sell his land, so gradually his few acres were surrounded by business parks of cement and glass. It was sad to drive by and see his farm in the middle of so called 'progress.'

It has been years since I have been 'home.' I don't know if he is still fighting the good fight.

There is a story in our local paper about a man who died in the house he had lived in all his life. He, too, refused to give up his land, his life, to developers. The house was a ramshackle of a mess. He used space heaters to warm the house. Over the week-end Gerald Mahr died in the house he refused to give up. An electrician noticed the fire as he drove by the farm.

Reading the story, it just seemed a sad end. But as I thought more about this... maybe something more sinister happened.

The ashes of his life will be scooped up and plowed over and 'progress' will go on.

Hippopromises

To my bed these clothes I gleefully shed

counting sheep before slumber deep, gives way

to rumbled burbles, replete with gurgles

my quest for winks postponed me thinks, in haste

red Jimmy Choo's, stumbling over to taste

 tackle treasure trove, past any restraint

snarf old birthday cake, green New Year's hors d'oeuvres

belly bloated in girdle, soon to faint

resolution snafu, face a flamed hue

 look, figi pudding! bread Limpi I chew

backside mistook for hippo escapin'

promises swept, glow from fridge, I am kept

til next eve I weep, sheep shuffle to sleep.

*For Jingle Poetry, week 19

If Only I Could Win The Lottery...

Winning the lottery is supposed to change lives for the better. I think it just changes lives and for those who never had money, or learned how to save money, the money goes fast and they are back to, or worse off than before. Our neighbors won a huge lottery. They stayed around for awhile, flashing new cars and fancy clothes. Then they were gone. Went to where the rich people go, I suppose.

There is an article in the Chi/Trib about Holly Lahti who won half of the $380 million lottery. A 2003 photo shows Lahti with black eyes and a cut lip. She had been arrested for domestic violence, along with her husband, Josh. The couple no longer live together but are still legally married. It is possible that he may receive a portion of the winnings.

It also seems Holly Lahti has gone underground with her two children. Neighbors call her "shy" and sweet. She is the epitome of the struggling single parent in this country.

When Josh Lahti heard that she had won the lottery he said, "That's great! I won't have to pay child support!"

Asshole.

*You can see her mugshot in the Trib. but I chose not to post it.

Sunday Offerings

Let/us/bow/our/heads/and/pray/for/what/we/have/now/let/us/
sing/a/song/amen/and/rejoice/please/stand/please/sit/shake/
your/fellow/parishioner's/hand/pass/the/wafer/and/drink/the/
wine/sit/stand/pass/the/plate/on/second/thought/
just/leave/your/blessing/at/the/door/amen/amen/
the/house/of/the/lord/is/closed/and/please/oh/lord/
let/the/packers/kick/some/bear/butt.

Photo by outtacontext

Tidings To The Man In The Moon

A confessional Pearl in milky highway

Joan of Arc, the King of Eighth.

Matthew Shepard, Anne Boleyn, Rosa Parks, Attila the Hun

it is you we cast, you we shed, our hearts to bleed, when looked upon

Shakespeare, Baudelaire, the girl next door,

the kid called Billy, Dorothy Parker, the dying boy, Vincent Van Gogh

the wax and wane, a tide of dreams

the tales of Poe, a lover's lament

never to know the pull of your strings

Spring Ahead!

I'm looking forward to...

'The Rite', with Anthony Hopkins. Ooooooh, that looks good. I love exorcism, good vs. evil, movies.

Tomorrow!!! Game on!

February, when my job review will take place. I think it will be good. (((crossing fingers and toes)))

Now, I don't want too jump to high. I did mention before that I must look "to" and not "at." But, sometimes it's fun to look ahead.

'Specially when driving. : )

Where's My Handbag?

When did I get old?

There is a new/old television series on MTV called 'Skins.'  It follows the life of a bunch of teens who are going through the age of angst in the 21st century. I haven't seen the series, so, this is all speculation, but have kids really changed all that much from your era, my era, grandma's era? I doubt it. We smoked pot, had bad sex, hated our parents, were bored, got std's, blah, blah. The only difference- it stayed in the dark. It's a tough time in life, mostly from inner turmoil. No one wanted to see it, or read about it, or live it.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe showing young kids, ages, fifteen to nineteen, smoking, drinking, naked... is just the way it is today. Maybe the kids who tune in can relate.


The old lady in me is taking over, while the angst ridden girl who may have watched this show, is gone, baby, gone.

I'm gonna hobble on over to the talkie box and watch 'The Brady Bunch.' You have your reality, I have mine.

*Title refers to my dear gram who, when not carrying her purse, was looking for her purse.

Crocodile Tears

Funny about this story. Well, not so funny, haha, but as i read the story in our local paper about the woman in Ukraine who dropped her cell phone while trying to get a close up shot of a crocodile, it reminded me of Tatiana, the Siberian tiger who got pissed and jumped her enclosure, killing one young man and injuring two others. I was just wondering this morning about the boys and what, if anything, was new there.

Let us go back...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In 2005, according to patrons at the San Francisco Zoo, three young men were taunting and possibly throwing pine cones and sticks at the animal. She managed to jump her enclosure and did kill one. When one of the injured boys rushed to get help, the cafe employee initially thought the guy had lost his senses and help was delayed. The police officers did kill the beautiful and very lethal animal. The injured young men refused to talk about what actually happened. I believe they are also suing the zoo, for what, I do not know. I guess they feel they were victimized. 

As for the cell phone- it is now in the stomach of the crocodile, who must be in pain and refuses to eat. Zoo officials will only operate as a last resort due to the fact that amphibians do not do well with stitches and healing.

I love the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago. It's free, it's small, it's lovely. Animals like food. Monkeys love food. When stupid people throw food at the animals, they try to obtain the food. A gibbon broke his arm by trying to reach through the mesh cage. He later had to have his arm amputated. I wonder if the food tosser even knows or cares about consequences.

When we do stupid things, there are consequences.

In these cases, the animals pay.

I'm sure the woman feels remorsef... oh no, she just wants her sim card back.

*Story about croc. in jsonline.com, Chicago Tribune for the gibbon story, Wiki for Tatiana.

We-best, Mid-west, Post-fest

Fun in Green Bay. I guess.

It's just not my idea of fun- standing behind the back of my car and roasting corn on a tiny grill.

I have tried to find the exact history of how tailgating came about. It seems everyone has the same vague story. It started in the North with the mucky muck colleges. I'm sure they were quite different from today's fan food fest, but, since I've never been to one, I have no knowledge of what transpires at these parties. Does everyone share food? Do they play games? Do they walk around and do a meet and greet? Where's the fun part? Breathing in asphalt, smoke fumes and beer is just not fun times for me. And... I have heard that people who don't even have tickets to the game do the tailgate thing. So, while people are inside the stadium, do they sit out in the parking lot and listen to the game?

The Bears/Packer game is thee Midwest Super Bowl. I'm sure there will be parties galore, even in this frigid weather. Nothing like sitting on cold metal while the wind off the lake freezes your footballs.

Ah well, we all have our peccadilloes.

nfl.packers.com

More Toys!

Hee-hee. New fonts in blogger. I'm not sure this font will work for the more serious posts, but this is cool.

A Factory Of Evil

A mother has no time to write on lovely sheets of paper. This is in response in trying to open one of those plastic 'Bowbi' dolls. Impossible.

Impressive

Something to be happy about...

The days are getting longer by one minute each day.

Oh, glorious light!

Monet makes me happy, too.

That's all. I have nothing else. : )

Jonesin' For A Soda

"I took my prescribed medication and had a reaction to it."


Kelly Davis is referring to the night she was seen driving erratically and when she was stopped, she was disoriented and kept falling asleep. She claims she doesn't recall much else after that.

That's what happens when you take Ambien!

Yeah, sleep medication does that. I know someone who took Ambien. We called him 'Chuck' and 'Ambien Chuck.' When he took his medicine, sometimes strange things would happen. Ambien users have been known to take a walk... outside, whilst naked. They will cook and eat a full meal and have no recollection of midnight wanderings.

Davis decided to drive to the local gas station cause she got thirsty. When she was stopped, she was in her pajamas, oh, and her cat was sitting on her shoulder.

She is fighting the fine, which could be an automatic six to nine month suspension of her license and she will have to attend substance abuse counseling.

I'm glad no one was hurt. Maybe she should get a dog. Cats can't drive.

*Source: jsonline

Chopsticks And Stones

Yikes. Have you read the excerpt in the WSJ written by Amy Chua? Chua believes in tough love.  I'm not sure we (Americans) are ready to embrace her child rearing regimen.

Chua is a professor at Yale Law School. She has two daughters and in her memoir, 'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother' she gives a few tips on how to raise children. They cannot watch TV. I like that. TV sucks out brain cells. No playdates. Hmm... They cannot be in school plays and must never, ever receive a grade other than an A. Her two girls must practice their musical instruments three hours each day.

Okay, tough stuff, but not abusive, in my opinion.

But, she does go on to say, verbal abuse is okay in the Chinese way of learning. She once called one of her daughters, "garbage." She then thought dinner guests would be amused when she told them this. They were not. They were appalled, actually.

She also makes her children stand outside in the cold, if they do not live up to her standards. She once chastised them for their poorly constructed homemade birthdays cards, to her.

Surprisingly, she has received some pretty nasty emails. Okay, not so surprising.

Her daughters have come to her defense. Most likely they are suffering from the Stockholm Syndrome.

I don't know, if you want overachievers and anal humans, by all means raise them as if they are in boot camp.

Discipline is good.

Do you think she has gone too far?

*Found the story in the Daily Beast. You can find the excerpt and debate in WSJ.

Magpie #49

magpietales.blogspot.com

It's all I have, one photo dear

she stands apart, looking tired and worn

my first lesson in life, nothing remains constant

too young then to understand the longing in her heart

for her past, for the woman who once smiled

desolation born, the flowers she tended

the child she mended

gone

I never saw her smile, until this

she was home, she was whole again

a heart of shattered glass

it took me years to understand

it was not me she was leaving

it was the woman she once again had found.

*Dedicated to my grandmother, who loved me dear, but was torn away from her sisters and homeland. She did go back when she knew she was dying. She went home.

Hard for a ten year old to get that, but I do, now.

Thank-you for the prompt, Willow.

Bear Hatfield and Packer McCoy

If you don't like football, I understand. But, if you like blood feuds, then you will also understand why come January 23rd, from Rhinelander to Decatur it will feel like a ghost town, one big Deadwood.

The hate between the two teams is like the Hatfields and McCoys.

The Feud: In the 1800's, Randolph McCoy lived on the Kentucky side of Tug Fork. 'Devil Anse' Hatfield on ta other. One family accused ta other of shootin' a union soldier, then more feudin' begot when one family accused ta other of stealin' a hog. But, it really got goin' when Roseanna McCoy got the hots fer Johnse Hatfield and some stuff happened, then Jonse abandoned the loyal Roseanna fer her cousin.. Some more bad stuff happened until a truce was called in 1979 when the families went on Family Feud.


The two teams have not faced each other in a play-off since 1941. It's not important who won that game. (no need to look)

It's not important who wins next Sunday's game, but it will be fun, and expensive.

You will have a chance to buy tickets tomorrow at 2pm online through Ticketmaster.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

Good luck with that. Or, you can buy them the other way, through the bung hole. Tickets will be priced from $500 (seats in the clouds) or for the lower level seats, $3,000, starting.

Woooooooo. Pig. Sooie!

*Hatfield/McCoy Feud from Wiki. Pretty interesting.

That's What He Said

Ricky, Ricky, why so mean? What was that about? Gervais hosted the Golden Globes. The GG is usually laid back and fun, unlike the mostly somber and formal AA's, but, even so, man oh man, Ricky was just mean and those in the audience were quite uncomfortable and perplexed.

He went after Charlie Sheen. Mean but funny. Cher joke. Very funny. He went after Tim Allen. Just mean.

He went after pretty much everyone.

Ricky must have gotten a time out, cause when he returned to the show after an hour, he definitely toned town the cruel digs.

Are we Americans just too touchy and sensitive?

I can't think of anyone who could have gotten away with such nastiness.

Bets are, Gervais will not be invited back to host the Globes or anywhere else in Hollywood.

Very strange.

Close The Border!

News anchor: "John, can you tell us what is happening now?"

"Yes, Jan. I am out here, just over the border, talking with the border patrol's leader, Sven Johnson. It seems they are armed with kielbasas and knackwurst, lying in wait in Mr. Jorgensen's field, waiting for the enemy to cross at any moment. Mr. Johnson, tell us what is going on inside your head at this moment."

"Ver vaiting for dem flatlanders to make a break any minute, ya. Veal be ready for dem ven dey do."

"What exactly is your reason for wanting to keep them out? Don't they come over and spend large amounts of money when they visit the Dells and build summer cottages up North?

"Oh, ya, dey are sneaky. Dey sneak tru and eat our sausages and cheese. Dey hide der eyes ven dey visit dem porno shops. Dey come wit der money AND NOW THEY VANT TO LIVE HERE! Dat cannot happen, no,no,no,no."

"How long have you lived here, Sven? You have a very heavy accent."

"Dis is my home, born and raised, Yon. We stick wit da old ways, ya."

"But, our new Governor welcomes them to our state. He plans to give them tax breaks and incen..."

"Aaacchh, he only trick dem. Dey come to live and he and that Rebecca Sunshine open der arms, then BAM! Velcome to da hotel, flatlander. You can never leave vithout paying up da wazoo, in time. Ya, dat's how it vill go."

"Jan, I believe there may be some action up ahead. One moment... yes, someone is trying to cross. Yes, yes... Sven is checking his plates. Looks like he tried to fake his way through, but instead of 'America's Dairyland' the foreigner pasted the 'The Land of Cheese.'" It's going to be a long night, Jan. Back to you, ya."

The Tree Through The Forest

Dreaming out my window hope

the soldier's stare

reaching past horizon's sights

dismissing the tree through forest,

I search for me.

Gestalt visions, closure there

I miss the message, rush past the now

try to fast forward, when before my eyes

the answer lies

Look at, not through

see the here, the now

the present tense

So focused on the future's hand

puzzled piece in hidden view

the brain shouts to the eye,

it's in the detail, it's there for you!

*Although I do not follow any religion, the view from my window reminded me of how many times I look past what is there before me. I need to look at and not, to.

*For Jingle Poetry Potluck 18

I'm Hearing Voices

Famous voices behind commercials is not something I'm good at recognizing. Most are just nice voices and perhaps, that's the idea. The product is supposed to be the star, not the voice. So, why pay big bucks to use celebrities? Maybe, once the word is out that so and so endorses this product, others (fans) will follow.

Walletpop has a list of the famous who have lent their voices to commercials. I think Billy Crudup's voice for MasterCard is genius. I have no idea who he is, but his voice is perfect for the ad.

I have mentioned my love for Tim Allen's, Michigan ads. Just listening to his voice on these ads lowers my blood pressure.

Could you recognize these other celebs such as John Goodman/Dunkin' Donuts, Jeff Bridges/Hyundai, George Clooney/Budweiser?

Walletpop also had a list of hit or miss celebrity choices for ads. Bob Dylan for Victoria's Secret? Yeah, a miss. (Call me, Bob) William Shatner for Priceline. Big hit.

When Sally Field is not flying or surfing or crying, she's talking about Boniva. Seems to work. She's likeable. Still cute as a button even when she's taking her pill for bone loss.

Paris and Jessica. Bad, bad.

Cracked and walletpop have mentioned the Flinstone commercial where Fred and Barney seem to be hiding behind the cave home, sneaking a Winston cigarette. Cracked says it's one of those ads that the Flinstone pushers would like to keep hidden.

I was looking for the Victoria's Secret commercial, but found this instead. Funny.

Neon Pap

Call me cynical, but having lived with an alcoholic, the story about Ted William's renaissance was too good to be true. And it was.

You can dress someone up, give them food, money and moral support. It means nothing if the underlying problem is not addressed. Did people actually think he was going to change overnight?

If you don't know who I'm talking about, well, I'd be surprised first of all. He's been force fed to the American public and people bit. Ten million hits and counting on the silky voiced man.

I feel bad for him. I feel worse for the children he abandoned.

People can change. People can look through the want of another drink or another hit, but there must be something for them that makes them want to change, something inside of them they see willing to fight for, willing to shove away the monster that has a hold on them.

My mother never found that something. Some never do. I get emotional when I see people who struggle every day to better themselves, yet, they do it. They don't want to go back.

I also get angry when so much attention is focused on one guy with a nice voice who caught a break and is not ready or willing to fight for that chance.

I get angry at the do-gooders who get a rosy glow when their Frankenstein walks and talks.

If you want to help someone, give your attention to someone who hasn't ravaged their life and deserted anything of value for one more hit or one more drink.

Can A Bird Beat A Badger?

Ha! I don't think so.

Later... Fun game. Well of course it was. Badgers stomped on the birdies. By the way, the Georgia Dome is beautiful. 48-21. Yeah!!!

Honk

There are two kinds of people. Those who like clowns and those who are creeped out by their very existence.

I have not met one person who likes clowns. They must be out there, the clown lovers. Clowns keep coming, so someone must like them.

Or... it's the mother of all conspiracies, a clown conspiracy. They get together in their clown car and while they share make-up tips, they conspire to take over the world. They try to make you laugh and get you to relax with their big feet antics.

Of course, you must be of a certain age and possibly in need of a friend.  Perhaps your siblings tormented you. Maybe your parents called you Bobby, when actually your name is Jimmy. They have planted the seed. The little boy will remember his clown friend and want to be just like him.

The master leader is that arch guy. What a perfect way to get to the little masses of vulnerable future big foots into the 'party.' Ply them with greasy meat and oily fries. Entice them with a toy and give them sensory pleasure with plastic balls and tubes that look frightening similar to guinea pig tunnels.

Yeah, two kinds of people.

*This is what happens when you are lying in bed and the most fabulous idea for a story pops in your head and you truly believe you will remember it in the morning and you forget it all, except for the wisp of the something... So instead, you get clowns.

How To Lose People And Piss Off Friends

Hey, it's Friday! Someone is gonna do some drinking tonight, but, for now, I'll leave you with my observations that certainly will not win me the Ms. Popularity sash.

Ah, well.

Anyway, if you have noticed I have joined a few poetry sites. For me, it's fun. I never claimed to be a poet, but I get to see really good writing from other real poets. One of the rules for the Poetry Rally is to read at least 18 other poems and comment on them. Before you even enter your poem you accept that and agree to it. Me, I enjoy it. Remember, I'm the comment whore. I think most people like feedback. I DO NOT expect those who I comment to, to have to feel they are obligated to return the comment. I have noticed a few of the people leaving poems are balking at the idea of having to read that many poems and make comments. One refused to make that many comments because of 'social anxieties. (?) If I understand what he means... some bloggers expect other bloggers to 'follow' them if they have followed you. Now, there must be over 400 bloggers who regularly post a poem each week. I have favorites, I admit, but I follow them through the poetry sites. I have had a few poetry people follow me, then drop me and the only reason I can think of is that I didn't reciprocate the following. Or, they noticed I write 'fuck' and 'damn' quite often.

Blogging is not a popularity contest for me. If I find bloggers I like, I follow and the only reason I drop them is if they get an attitude. I keep in touch with those I follow. I make comments (sometimes, I shouldn't. Sorry, to those I may have offended or annoyed)

But, when you agree to certain rules (I believe that's why it's called a Rally) follow the rules. It is your word. Right?


*Here's a picture of Moscow. No reason. It's pretty. : )

Something On My Mind

Mark Twain Museum

"The word is terrible, it's hurtful, but it's there for a reason. It's there to convey the language and attitudes of Missouri in the 1840s at a time when segregationist Jim Crow laws were being passed in the South to deprive blacks of their civil rights." -Jeff Nichols, the executive director of the Mark Twain House and Museum.

In the newest editions of 'Huckleberry Finn' the word, nigger will be replaced with slave.

Yeah, cause that's so much better.

Each year our library displays books that have been banned. It is incredible to me what books have been removed because someone has been offended by raw and honest situations.

Just as recently as 2009, Sherman Alexi's wonderful and moving book, 'The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian.' was banned from a Chicago school.

Can you imagine losing works like 'The Grapes of Wrath', 'Of Mice and Men' and 'East of Eden'? John Steinbeck is one of my favorite writers.

Perhaps the offended should edit 'Lady Chatterley's Lover'.

Something like this... "Connie really wondered at this odd, (queer) melancholy specimen..."

Or... "Her room was the only happy (gay) modern one in the house..."

One more... "And at length he ceased to shiver (quiver)..."

You may not like what an author writes. You may be uncomfortable by strong and yes, awful and derogatory words, but, to mess with someone's work is absolutely reprehensible.

Other books that have been banned...

'As I lay Dying'- William Faulkner

'Forever'- Judy Blume.

'A Wrinkle in Time'- Madeleine L'Engle.

'James and the Giant Peach'- Roald Dahl.

'A Diary of a Young Girl'- Anne Frank.

'Lady Chatterley's Lover'- D.H. Lawrence.

'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone'- J.K. Rowling.

American Heritage Dictionary- Banned in Eldon, Mo. for 39 "objectionable words."

'Twelfth Night'- William Shakespeare.

*Sources: www.adlerbooks.com, www.banned-books.com, aruinedchapelbymoonlight.blogspot.com, huffingtonpost.com,
www.online-literature.com/dh_lawrence

Third World Mentality

Photo by harrymoon

Gee, I realized what a whiner I was when I mentioned my crappy week. It really wasn't as bad as getting shot in the head or just being a witness to such a horrific slaughter.

I actually had posted a rant about blame and responsibility, but deleted it, knowing it was a useless and pointless post. Yet... it is still on my mind. I also wrote that I didn't think anything would change. I still believe that.

Nicholas Kristoff wrote an interesting piece in the opinion section of the NYTimes.

The headline reads, "Why not regulate guns as seriously as toys?" Good question.

The statistics he gives about guns in this country is frightening. There are 85 guns per 100 people in the U.S. 80 people die each day by handguns in this country.

After the crazy actions of a sick individual, Arizona's citizens went out and stocked up on guns.

Wow. That makes me ill. Someone kills and people go out to buy the instrument that can kill. I will never, ever understand this.

In my other rant (I guess this is one, also) I wrote that it was too late to turn back our gun-toting, I-must-protect-my-rights-and-family, mentality. I just think people like guns. According to Kristoff, Australia banned automatic weapons and started a buy back in 1996. I'm sure if I looked further, statistics would show that Australia never had as many deaths by guns as this country does, but suicide rates did go down.

Yeah, I think I know why I have been so down and anxious this week. I have been testy and rude and have not liked this person that I have become.

Guns kill. Less guns, less chance of incidents of sick people taking out innocent people.

But, that's just how I see it.

Just Because

Because I'm having a shitty week and she makes me smile.

Heidi, from the Leipzig Zoo

A Veggie Massacree

From cellar steps, the thing does come

takes pleasure in leisurely stead

wizened claws stretching

 clicking of its tongue

it has  made its choice, in gargled voice

Ah no, not our dear sweet pea

take us first, just let them be!

A gleam of silver, she grabs an ear

rips flaxen silk in satisfied grunts

Cold is our flesh, shriveled is my heart of palm

It squeezes skin, inhales our fear

don't make it cry

it will cut you fast 

with bulging eyes, you cannot hide

so long my sweet, my little sprout

you're collard now 

down and out

*For Poets Rally Week 37

Dang editor.

Love/Hate Love/Love Hate/Hate Snow

Washington, D.C.

Nova Scotia

Maine

Our relationship is complicated. Respect Mother N. and stay off the brakes.

Chicago

Gone To See The 'Dark Man'

Treasure Island, Las Vegas

She was not a friend of mine, but she was the wife of my partner's buddy/pal/creep. She was the most anal and controlling person I had ever met. I once held a dinner party and made lasagna from scratch to serve. The only thing I needed to do was heat it up since I had made it in advance. Every five minutes this woman, let's call her Midge, would open the oven door and test the lasagna. "You should have put it in earlier. You should have added more toppings. It smells like too much basil."

She tore people down then handed them a back handed compliment. She once started one of her compliment/cut downs with, "You are really pretty...3...2...1... in your own way."

While she was involved with trying to straighten everyone else out, she couldn't see how dysfunctional her own life was. Her husband was a cheater and a con man. He was the type who would fake a fall in a grocery store and sue the business. He got friends to invest in phony schemes and get rich quick dreams that failed or were never  his intention to ever pursue. He borrowed until he had no more friends to borrow from. He knew I detested him and like a cat who is drawn to the person that despises them, he fed me compliments with a sickly sweet smile on his face. He knew his presence grated my every nerve and he enjoyed every moment of his act.

They were a strange couple. Neither seemed to listen to what the other one had to say. They were like two planets just sort of circling around in the same space. Many an argument started between my S.O. and me about them. I just could not understand why he liked this guy, and yes, I asked and he always gave me some vague, "Oh, he's okay." or "He's fun to hang out with."

Yeah, he was a great storyteller. But to me, I just couldn't overlook how he used his charm to screw people over.

Then one day, they were gone. A few months later, my partner got a call in the middle of the night from Midge. She was frantic because she had not seen her husband in days. He just took the car and had left her stranded. When she hung up I asked H. if he knew where his friend might be. He mumbled something and I let it go, but it bothered me that he probably knew where his pal was and it scared me that he would not share this information with his friend's wife or with me.

Several days later, we noticed a Cadillac pull into the drive and out pops his friend, along with his wife. They insisted on taking us out to a very expensive restaurant and wanted to show off their new bling.

As we ate, hubby and wife took turns telling their odd tale. It seems they had received a huge settlement from a car accident and this "scared" the hubby so badly he took off to Vegas for that AWOL week-end. He claims he cannot recall anything he did in Vegas. Of course, H. and I listened in disbelief, but Midge apparently either trusted the guy or had recently been lobotomized because she fell for it. She believed he had just freaked out and ended up in Vegas and then got amnesia.

Frankly, I was pissed and amused. I felt sorry for his wife, but I was so angry with him and with H. He knew all along where this scumbag had been.

I guess you could say the party was over when I called his friend an idiot and a user. For once the control freak wife had nothing to say. It did get rather quiet after that.

I'd like to say it was the reason for getting out of my relationship with H. It was the excuse to finally call it off.

I later heard through the grapevine that my former beau and the odd couple invested and lost every penny they had into some car dealership.

There's a moral here, maybe, I don't know. Maybe it's 'If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck...'

* The 'Dark Man' is a character in Stephen King's, 'The Stand'

Magpie 48

Stage fright jitters

yo yo ma...ma mia

my tambourine solo

pass the basket, man

hear sweet folk love

of village beats, a bohemian score

night into dawn, sips of coffee stale 

yesterdays of freedom bound 

*magpietales

I took liberties with this week's prompt.

Next, It Will Be Vampires

There is a witchy uprising. Beware!

Witches have been officially officialized and legally legalized, which means, Romania needs money and the government now wants a bit of those earnings witches make when they curse and uncurse, hex and vex, boil and... okay, anyway, the witches claim they barely make enough to get by. They are angry and have gotten together and formed a tea par,,, oh wait, that's the other coven.

Witchery is serious business in Romania. Even the President wears purple on occasion to ward off evil and I would assume witches who cook a mean stew.

In protest, the witches gathered at the River Danube and threw mandrake plants, cat poo and a few dead dogs for good measure into the very large river cauldron to curse those who dare mess with them and their art.

America, we are boring.

Godzilla vs. The Sun

Reminds me (move lips) of those old Japanese (move lips)  monster movies that were played over (move lips) and over again.