The Defiant One

She's a five foot five moose skinner, from the Alaska Range,

a good ol' homespun, aaw shucks gal dressed all in leather and chains.

Her eyes upon the House of White, she wants to make a change,
she'll adorn the walls with black velvet art and stuffy staring manes.
She makes up words and likes to tweet,
when the going gets rough, she goes splittity-lick.
Though, she's lacking a brain, she's mighty sweet,
unless you're a liberal, wolf, or- Katie Couric.
A wily fox from Willow, she 'Salahi's' the G-O-Party,
the Belle of the doubting birthers and Dick Cheney pointing hunters-
Obama's nemesis, like Holmes to Moriarty,
she's about to toss her hat in with fellow right-wing punters.
They'll be dancing in the streets for that happy judgement day,
unless you're black, an immigrant, or a black immigrant that's gay.

Because of Them

It was the first time I witnessed the 'thousand mile stare.' Dad had taken me with him to Amvets. I had no idea what AMVETS stood for, it was just Amvets, the place that had the lumpy tile in the big empty room, and the smell of beer and stale cigarettes in the bar.

I watched as Tommy's dad, limped with his wooden leg, back to fill another glass with foam and amber. I stared as the man with missing fingers caressed the scarred, bar counter top. They talked about mowing lawns and Ernie Banks. They called me 'Squirt' and gave me quarters to fill the jukebox.

They exchanged horrors about places far away, where the bitter cold entered their very bones, and the insides of their boots were filled with frozen socks and blistered feet. They drank to their buddies, who didn't come home. I sat next to my dad and watched them go somewhere else with their eyes. I didn't understand it really, but, I knew these men were different- the men who never completely came back.

******

I have stood with others as we marched with our homemade signs, in protest of another war and more death. We then went home and sat in front of our TV's, feeling pretty good about ourselves, thinking, maybe, someone has listened to us.

The reality is... there will always be another evil empire to strike down. There will always be the bin Laden's and Gaddafi's and Hitler's, who feed on death and destruction.

And, there will always be men and women who will give up their lives for the multitude.

A Mob Of Pranksters

Photo by Alforque

Talk about an idea that backfired.

They have been showing an ad for some phone, don't ask me which one, that depicts a man taking part in a flash mob extravaganza. The only problem is- he didn't get the message that the mob had been moved to another time. Oops.

Bill Wasik is the one to thank for creating flash mob. Well, thank him if you enjoy a planned assault on your senses. They look fun to watch, but, they also look rather silly.

Wasik, who is the senior editor at Harper's Magazine, intention was to satirize conformity. I guess his point was that at any time spontaneity can occur, yet, these mob actions are planned, so, I'm not sure what his idea was, other than to start some shit with a twist of funny.

One of Wasik's ideas was to have hundred people go into a Macy's store and stand around a carpet. They were to tell the clerk that they were all together and lived in a warehouse and they made all their buying decisions, together. It's funny. It's also disruptive and kind of weird. I'm not the social type, so getting together with a group of people to perform in front of a not-in-the-loop audience doesn't appeal to me.

Don't you think it's just a group of people who are thinking, "Look at me, look at how clever I am?"

Usually, with most good intentions, assholes find a way to ruin it. Flash mobs have gathered in certain cities to wreak havoc and loot shops. You have to be a real loser to plan to steal as a group.

I'd post a video, but you know where to find them- That other place people like to perform for an audience.

Skipping On String Theories

She flosses her teeth with strands of spun sugar,

wears chandelier skirts of the vintage kind

She only eats noodles, three at a sitting,

and reads Baudelaire by the silvery moon.

Her bestest friend is fish named Tony

they sip beads of colored water,

and sing, Tony, Tony, Bo, Boney...

She will build a blimp and fly,

 fly away, high into the sky,
 along the nebula way. 

*For Poets United.

Boom Goes The Dane o' Might

Great Dane heard Boom Boom

shapeshifting transformation
squeezed into the couch.

*For Poetry Potluck, Thunderstorms, Floods and Water Fury

Let's All Wear Paperbags And Burlap Sacks

Hmm, I say, hmm...

I think by the end of this post I will know how I feel about this story. There is a couple who have decided to keep the gender of their baby to themselves. This baby is now four months old and not even the grandparents are privy to the bottom bits.

I get why they choose to not divulge the true nature of thy spawn, but, they can't keep it a secret forever and right now, the kid is too young to give a shit. The parents don't want outside influences telling their dear one what is expected of them, genderwise.

There is a problem. Child will grow up. Child will speak to others who have opinions about gender roles. Child is either a boy or a girl and here's a shocker- we do think differently. GASP!!

I'm all for gender equality folks. For me, that means equal pay for equal experience. I don't care if Bobby wants to play with dolls and Susie want to play football, blah, blah. Some think gender equality will be the ruination of our species. They are usually the ones who are boinking maids and making more babies, who are confused about who their daddy is and...

But, I digress.

Oh, look, we are at the end of this post and I have no idea what the hell I'm trying to convey.

There are so many confused people out there, what's one more? I guess this is the moral of this story-> Try to be happy without fucking up someone else's life.

Ca ya do that?

No Need For Inky Palms!

The Mythical Monkey was asked to provide a list of answers from a questionnaire about movies, and invites all to chime in, too.

MM is the expert on movies, but, we all have our favorites. That is what's so fun about answering these questions. There are no wrong or right answers! It's my kind of quiz.

1) Movie you love with a passion: 'Truly, Madly, Deeply.

2)Movie you vow to never watch: The Beaver.

3)Movie that literally left you speechless: United 93. I had never felt the way I did after seeing that movie. I just felt lost and for me, it was the closest I could ever get to what they endured.

4)Movie you always recommend: I don't think I have one.

5)Actor/actress you always watch, no matter how crappy the movie: Doris Day. She's done some crappy movies, but I forgive her. She's just so dang cute.

6)Actor/actress you don't get the appeal for: Brad Pitt. I do not get it.

7)Actor/actress living or dead, you'd love to meet: Again- Doris. I can see us having iced tea and playing with her animals. Yeah, I've given this some thought. LOL.

8)Sexiest actor/actress you've seen: Jeff Bridges, Sidney Poitier, and Alan Rickman.
My choices don't exactly include the most handsome, but they exude sex on a stick. Yum.

9)Dream cast: Jeff Bridges, Sidney Poitier, Alan Rickman and Kate Winslet. It's my dream.

10)Favorite actor pairing: Oh, I love Nick and Nora. They were perfect together.

11)Favorite movie setting: BUB. Bringing Up Baby.  It has Cary in it. That's all I need.

12) Favorite decade for movies: The 40's. Love the clothes, the hair, the not-so-politically- correct swagger.

13) Chick flick or action movie: Honestly, I like action movies more than chick flicks.

14) Hero, villain, or anti-hero?: The anti-hero. Depending on which side you take, I think Atticus Finch was all three. (To Kill a Mockingbird)

15) Black and white or color?: I have no preference, although, I hate when a certain billionaire put color in b/w films. Stop that.

I think I have them all. If not, head on over to MM's place and take the questionnaire. It's as fun as a barrel of monkeys!

It's A Gas

I have a feeling it might be a little quiet in Bloggerland this three day week-end.

Any plans? Let's check out some cams to see what's happening. Seems the National Parks cam has gone bust. Figures. But, here are some lovely places to travel to, even if it's from your computer seat.

Some good travelin' movies to watch...

The Long, Long Trailer with Desi and Lucy. Cute movie.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. I could watch it a hundred times.

Deliverance. Uh, maybe not, but it is a good movie.

Got a favorite travelin' movie?

Have a safe week-end, whatever you do. I'll be here. Ho-hum.

The Lady

Peggys Cove

Little Bighorn

Glacier Nat'l Park

Gatlinburg

Mt. Rushmore
sdpb.org

Pearl Jam - Wishlist

Kiss Me Cocoa

They found her dead in a tub of goo,

a veritable mousse of chocolate stew.

What a way to go, covered in beans,

screw flowered broccoli and other greens.

Drown my sorrows in Hershey's kisses,

hope I don't end up like the other missus-

but, I'll take my chances with a cocoa baste,

death by chocolate, now that's good taste!

*For Poets United

I'm A Manly Man

Now see here, I'm a man, I tell ya

a chain smokin', barrel chested,

heapin' helpin' of a quiet fella.

I like my wimmen big breasted,
barefoot and red headed.
I like my whiskey strong and men straight,
one man fer one woman, wedded.
I'm a tall man, pilgrim, with a manly gait
My best friend is my loyal horse,
searching North to Alaska for a green beret
'We're burnin' daylight', stay the course!
Me a commie!? That'll be the day!
Pilgrim

*For bluebellbooks.

Angel Skies

If you have been coming around to visit my blog for awhile, you know I like to look at live cams. I tend to go to National Parks and pretty spots with lots of sky views.

I clicked on to Voksenlia, which usually has a gorgeous scene to ogle, but this is what was there. Sure looks like an angel to me. When I went back fifteen minutes later, all was clear.

Kind of cool, eh?

The Bernie Brewer Busted Ballsy Breakdown

To the morons who ruined Bernie Brewer Day- Karma, baby, karma.

If you don't know Bernie Brewer, well, let me get ya up to date. Bernie is a funny guy with a big yellow mustache, who lives in Miller Park in Milwaukee and cheers on our baseball team.

Yes, along with running sausages, we have Bernie Brewer, team mascot.

Yesterday was supposed to be a fun day for the fans. Little Bernies were going to be scattered around parks, in and around Milwaukee and fans could take one. ONE!  The statues contained tickets to the game and some had additional prizes. One hundred of the lawn ornaments were signed by players and Brewer's officials.

Well, 7am comes along... and so do the morons who start grabbing as many Bernies as they can. In fact, many Bernies were gone before then. Creeps started taking them before the fun was to begin.

Later that day, Bernie was showing up on Ebay for $100 a pop or more. Some of the thieves even gloated about taking dozens of the statues.

This story gives me that icky feeling in the pit of my stomach. It just makes me sad that adults would act in such immature behavior.

Note to morons- You can buy Bernie in the gift shop for $48. 

All Up In My Amygdala

Wikicommons

Man, I hate when people get in my personal space! This woman at work is freaking me out. I'll be looking down at some paperwork and feel something behind me and there she is! Whether I'm standing or sitting, she's too close. If I'm standing, I can move somewhat, but it's pointless cause she sticks like a magnet.

I don't know what to do!

According to Wiki, there is the public space, social space, personal space, and intimate space. Now, our personal space has an invisible line of around a foot and a half. Any closer and the little beepers in the brain start going off. We become uncomfortable and even angry.  I have been both, but I can't tell her to back off. She's a nice person, a very nice person, but fer chrissakes, I can't deal with it. Maybe, I'll just have to carry a backpack and a giant fanny pack in front of me to keep her back.

I have noticed that other workers are protected by a desk, so she can't get to them. Me, she just follows anywhere I go.

Good grief, it's annoying. I wonder, if I did the same to her, she'd get the message? But, then we'd be in the intimate space. Eeeeeewwwww, ain't going there.

Sigh.

Bobby's Birthday!!

What can I say? My fascination and admiration for him has not dimmed. I'm crazy about him.

He has given us the most beautiful music, but if you cannot stand the voice, just read his words. He is the musical poet.

That's all I have to say.

Oh, one more thing.

Call me, Bob.

Happy Birthday, Bob!

Bob Dylan - Song to Woody

Filling The Void

When you lose someone you love, the hurt stays. Eventually, we learn to go on and keep the hurt at bay.

But, then, I will smell lilacs and think of my mother. I will hear the swish of a subway door and think of my Gram. It will stop me in my tracks and I will wait until the grief subsides.

I could wallow in my sorrow. Oh, how easily I could do that.

Yet, I move on, and take the good I have learned from my mother and Gram and use what they have taught me. That is what they gave us, that is why we must carry on. For them, for the ones we have loved, and will always love.

I am thankful for what they have given me.

For Thankful Tuesday

Five Points Of View

Always The Bridesmaid
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mother said he was a Doc

and sent me on this date, so blind

the guy's a nutter, what a croc

In need of taxi, I shall find.

The Third Wheel
~~~~~~~~~~~~

You lookin' at me, then just stare harder

I am the prince of Chaperone,

the man who never gets the garter

shall we head upstairs and share a bone?

The Server/Actress
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, gahd, not another frickin' theme

I hope they tip and leave real soon

my dogs are barking, I want to scream

I swear there must be a full blue moon.

The Musician
~~~~~~~~~~~

I play my lute, I play for me

as long as he pays, then what the _ucks

he can dress like a dandy from 1623

man, oh, man, this gig sucks.

The Cad
~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, she loves me, I can tell

I am so handsome and clever, too

I see from breasts, her heart does swell

Is this a squid, damn, where's the loo?

*For Magpie Tales, #67 

Eating With The Smiths

"You know when you get dat piece a hair in your mouth an ya try and pull it out with yer finger and then ya choke up yer greek yogurt that tastes like kindergarten paste? Well, I got a hair in my mouth called Morrissey, and by the way, who is he to think he can just go by one name? He's no Cher, let me tell ya. Anyway, der was an article in the Happenings that said this guy Morrissey likes to speak fer dem PETA's people, but he aint' no vegiternarian, so how does he come off speaking about women in fur coats and all? My Aunt Gerta, yeah, Aunt Gerta with da goiters, always said 'you should practice what you sew,' so dis Morrissey, who no one in America ever even heard of, oughta  forego eatin' them mutton legs they like in Brittany. Speaking of mutton, did you ever get some meat stuck in yer teeth and you try and get it out wit one of them wooden toothpicks they give you and then the wood is crammed way up in there too, so ya gotta get another one to poke out da first one and now yer bleeding all over the nice tablecloth and.... what? Oh, so, I think this Morris guy should join some other group like the NRA or something and go hunt some mutton and... what?"

"Ooooh, he is a vegerternarian!"

"Nevermind."

*I was ready to do a post about Morrissey being a spokesperson for PETA and give him a howdy do, because I incorrectly thought the segment I read about him said that he wasn't a vegetarian. Then I did some research and found how committed he is to animal rights. He has a frickin' album titled, "Meat is Murder' for crikey's sake! I had to channel Rosanne Rosannadanna for my faux pas.

Snarky Miss Thingy

I love problem solvers. The papers and TV news stations usually have a problem solver who tries to solve unresolved issues of those who have tried every other way to get a problem solved. Jon Yates is the problem solver at the Chicago Tribune. It is really interesting to see what people have to deal with and shouldn't have to deal with.Mostly, the problem involves some big, uncaring corporation who doesn't give a shit about your little problem and expects you to eat it, until, the media finds out about it. Well, then they are as nice as a peach cobbler on a Sunday morning. Most of the time, anyway.

I noticed today's problem from from a woman whose husband died in December and  her problem was that her husband had moved some U2 tickets that were for a July concert and now she couldn't find them and prove she was the owner of the tickets, although, she still has the ticket's numbers. She also could not verify the credit card number because she had cancelled the card.

Well, not exactly the same problem as being robbed and someone stealing your wheelchair or having Mr. Electric man shut off your power, even after you paid him, but, the wife says she and her husband were big fans of U2 and that he would be happy if she went.

I'm just kind of on the fence with this one. Hmmm... Oh, well. She did receive her tickets after the Problem Solver got involved. Once again, hmm...

********************

Ooh, Erik Larson has a new book out, titled, 'In the Garden of Beasts.' It sounds fabulous. Larson wrote the terrific book, 'The Devil in the White City.'  Check him out.

********************

Okay, I have a problem... more of a gripe actually. I don't think Yates could help me.

Every month at work we have a lunch/meeting, and everyone brings a dish to share. The main dish is always some meat laden casserole, so I usually end up eating what I brought. When asked for the bazillionth time why don't I eat the casserole, for the bazillionth time I have to remind them I don't eat meat. The usual response is, "Oh, I forgot." or just, "Oh." 

I know, such a little problem, but this month it looks like we will be having a meat orgy. Brats, hot dogs, and other various dead flesh things.

I am really considering just not bringing anything. It's not like I bring hummus or tofu. I bring something they can all enjoy. I just wish whoever is in charge of the meat, would consider a meatless alternative, but I already know that's not gonna happen cause I'm the only vegetarian in the group.

I guess I'm just tired of them forgetting me.

Yeah, pretty petty stuff.

***********************

You know, people who whiten their teeth so that they look like plastic, should really stop that. : )

***************************

Don't forget Bob's (Dylan) birthday is Tuesday. I stopped by his site yesterday and noticed he has written something about his China controversy, which really wasn't a controversy at all, but at the end of his post, he tells his readers to write. Write, write, write. (Not to him, but, write a book. It could be about him, though)

That was kind of nice. I know he's talking to me. Hee-hee. Okay, I'm not a fan stalker, which reminds me... Have you ever written to one of your idols, maybe an artist or a musician and received a response?

I haven't written to too many, but for some reason I emailed Dick Gautier and told him he looked good. LOL. He actually does look good and is a talented artist. He was nice enough to write me back and of course, mentioned his latest books for sale.

I'd say the only other person I bug is Augusten Burroughs (Running with Scissors)

The first time was just to say how much I liked his books. No response. A few weeks ago, I wrote again, asking permission to post some of his beautiful photography. (he's really good) No response. I guess I should give up, eh? Maybe I'll stop buying his books, too. Hmm...

*******************

Well, I see I'm being a bit snarky today, so while I'm there... do you think Hazel boinked Mr. B.?

That's been on my mind, lately.

Familiar Strangers

She picks the skin from her fingers and listens to the voices,

the lilt and cadence of a thousand whispered words.

She fades into the ugly haze of smoke and dust-covered chairs,
and promises the girl in the mirror, it will be different,
this time.
She will laugh at their jokes about patio furniture,
she will smile when they bring up the dancing baby-
she may even tell them about the balloon man,
who carried a bouquet of air, until he slipped and
 a rainbow floated across the watery grey sky.
 All the while, as she weaves with hands, her essence,
her very being, will perish, because it is all wrong, unfixable.

Her hand grazes across stale cracker crumbs as she wonders,
when did her sisters start to speak in tongues she
no longer comprehends? It's just too hard to grasp onto old ghosts,
and the no-special girl almost disappears, until she looks
 behind the Wizard's curtain and smiles at the revelation.

She will walk until her feet bleed red raw blisters,
she will crawl and climb and claw her way,
to them-
to the dreamers, the dancers, painters and poets.
She will find her place, find her home, find
her self.

*A Two-fer! For the Potluck.

Geez, Again?

Viktor Vasnetsov

I know, I know, this is my third post about the end of days, but it fascinates me, and I enjoy tweaking those waiting in their finery for the Lord to come get them.

I wanted to get an exact time of when this happening was going to fly, and according to Harold Camping, the nut (or prophet) claims it will start at 6pm. Camping lives in California, where nuts grow at an alarming rate.

Good article here, by avowed atheist and scientist, John Rennie, who has given the time some thought...like if it is going to happen during pacific time, wouldn't everyone else have fair warning and repent? No wonder Australia is still quiet. They must have all asked for forgiveness.

I have a feeling there will be a fourth post, tomorrow. I just wanna rub it in a bit.

I Feel Lucky, Oh So Lucky...

I heard a birdie on my stoop

looked down, looked up

and then he pooped,

on me and in my coffee cup.

Old wives say that it is good luck,

to be showered with some ducky soup-
I say, "Oh, shit, Hey, WTF!?"
can't go to work with slimy goop.

I rush back in and tear my hose,
break a heel and bend an ankle
I wipe away my luck from nose
and notice now, I have one cankle.

No time to primp, I run to car
trip over paper, scrap my knee.
With car in reverse and door ajar,
I fall onto road, and car leaves me.

With shat on suit and this day shot
I chase down street, my suburu
I pray I'm dreaming a Chaplin plot.
and curse the sky of raining doo-doo.

* For  Jingle Poetry Potluck

One Can Of Green Beans

Leroy Fick wants you to know he doesn't care what you think about him.

Who is Leroy Fick?

Why, he's the guy who won $2 million in the Michigan lottery and still uses food stamps.

Fick says the government got half of his money from taxes, so he doesn't feel guilty at all taking the food out of some child's mouth.

I wish that I could show you, Mr. Fick, the story about starving children in Appalachia. I want you to look at the child who cried when their mother opened one can of green beans for them to share for dinner. To this day, I still tear up when I recall one of the little ones saying, "No, mama." That was it. They were resigned to eating that one can of beans.

Children should not be resigned to a life of despair, Mr. Fick.

I get it, that you are trying to make a point.  We all get pissed off at the government, but, sometimes they do good- like feed children who would have nothing but a can of green beans for dinner.

I wish I could show you that, Mr. Fick.

* Here is one site that adds a bit more info, like how he can still get food stamps. Seems there is some sort of loophole in the Michigan program. Pfffffttt.

morning starts, the coffee's on, 

I hear the traffic of Friday hopefuls 

as they dream and scheme about their plans 

The birds whisper and crow and

 the man behind the wall just belched his

 new day into being. I think of blue skies and

 hairy legs and wish for honey maple pancakes,

 before I trudge my weary load off to the caves 

and a cave it is when I must view and text from

 the liquid blue of ambience farewell, farewell, old joe 

eat some of that farewell cake at 12.99 a frozen slab.

*I love free write. I did a lot in one writing class because the very young prof loved it, too. Poets United has given us a task to write freely. So, this is what I have come up with.

I Gotta Stay Here With Arnold And Mel!?

I wonder how many people will be 'born again', today?

Thanks to my ex, I knew some weird people. I like weird, but, not scary weird. My ex was the type of guy who would 'conversate' with anyone and everyone, even if they really didn't want to banter, but were just too polite to tell him to zip it.

If they still seemed to be interested, he brought them home for a meal and a game of pool. Unfortunately, it was usually the questionable who accepted his offer. The closest we got to a celebrity in our home was when he asked an Elvis impersonator over. He respectfully declined.

We have dined with a former police officer who had serious psychological issues. He suggested we play Russian roulette for an after dinner game. We have had in our home, a seemingly nice kid who sometime later blew his step father's head off while the man slept. We have dined with a man who was very polite and quiet, but a little depressed. He was arrested one night for some silly infraction and hanged himself in his jail cell. Oh, and I would be remiss if I didn't mention the young man who claimed he glowed in the dark.

Thinking about what some believe may be the Judgement Day on Saturday, I couldn't help thinking about the 'Born Again' family. Where hubby found them, I cannot even surmise, but, there they were, sitting in my living room, talking about 'The Day.'

It was just before dusk when they arrived and hubby left me to entertain them while he looked at some minor problem they were having with their car. The family consisted of mom and her two daughters. Dad had left the fold long ago. I could tell mom had lived a hard scrabble life. Actually, the two girls, who must have been in their late teens, looked ancient as well. They had found god just recently, and had to tell me all about it.

You may find this hard to believe, but at one point in my life, I was fairly polite... okay, I was a mouse, who didn't speak up when I was in uncomfortable situations. As the room darkened and we sat in shadows, because I was too mousey to move, mom went on and on about the glorious day to come. She chided me for not being ready and said she would pray for my dark soul. This got my dander up a bit and I was about to end the sermon when one of her daughters lit a cigarette and told her mother to "Shut the fuck up." Mom laughed and turned to me and said something like, 'That was okay, because god would forgive them if they just asked.'

So, now I was getting their gig. They truly believed that they could be rotten humans, cuss, drink, swear, lie and other awful things, but as long as they asked for forgiveness at the end of the day, all was well.

Now, as a lass who once wore the wool and plaid (Catholic) I knew their theory was a bit skewered. I told them that getting the ticket to the pearly gates requires a bit more work- like, trying to be a good person... The only response was the red glow from the cigarette being sucked to the filter. After what seemed an eternity, they left in silence to sit outside and wait for their car to be fixed.

I only had the pleasure of their company (dripping sarcasm) that one time. I don't know what happened to them, but hubby got an earful that night and nothing else.

I wonder if they are looking forward to Saturday? I wonder how they will feel if He never shows- you know, that sinking feeling when you have been stood up. It sucks.

On the other hand, what if...?

Well, then I guess I can say, WTF, you guys were right!!

It's All Her Fault

Oh, brother.

I haven't watched Oprah in years and years. I hear she's leaving or left or something like that. I also heard some mope bashed his own head in to make it look like he was robbed of his Oprah tickets.

King John (WGNradio) ticked me off today. He said the guy must have been mighty scared of his wife to first of all... tell her he had tickets to the show and then... they drive all the way from Canada and then... he claims a black guy and a Hispanic guy stole his tickets. And King John thinks it's her fault!?

Hellllooooo.

Maybe he just loves his wife, who happens to loooooooove Oprah, so he wanted to do something nice and seriously thought once he got into town he could get tickets. Maybe, he's not all there in the head and really thought he had the tickets, but then he couldn't produce them from his real pockets.

Lotta speculating going on. The facts are, man has owie and no tickets and is in big trouble.

Maybe Oprah will visit him in the slammer.

More Ben 'n Jerry's For Me

Hey, no one told me the Rapture was happening this Saturday!

Damn it, I have a date!!

Oh well, I guess I won't be going anywhere, although, some are prepared to do a meet and greet with the guy upstairs.

They also plan to gloat to their heathen friends and relatives who have been left behind.

Seems there is a site which will email the non believing bastards who are gonna get it real soon.

The atheists who will be left behind plan to profit from the newly departed. There is another site that promises to care for your animals when you are gone.

You can read it here. Whether you believe...

Gee, I hope my date is gonna stick around. Should be fun times ahead.

And Now For Some Real News

Intense pressure

They watched Don Gorske from Fond du Lac

eat his 25,000 MickeyD Big Mac

It all started in 1972, 

to celebrate, he went in for two

liked them so, he had seven more.

Sixteen bites to chew garnished moo,

cows and nutritionists soundly boo.

You'd think he'd be a big fat chubby

his wife, a nurse, sure loves hubby-

he's hyper, skinny, and has funny hair

and all of Wisconsin came by to glare.

Yeah, he's the man, he's the one

two all beef patties on a sesame seed bun. 

Such silly things in the front page news

Ah, well, I guess we got nothing else to dos.

* For the Rally

******************

I want to thank everyone who nominated me for this award. Thank-you, so much. The list of amazing poets is long and growing, which is great. I want to give a shout-out to Timoteo. (I can't believe I missed your name) Congratulations to everyone who participates and a special thanks, to Ji and the Jingle officials who work very hard to keep the love for poetry going and growing.

WWYD (What Would You Do?)

Elko, Nevada

I'm not sure what I would do if in the dire situation that the Chretiens were in.

On March 19th, Canadians, Albert and Rita Chretien, had planned on going to trade show in Las Vegas. They either got lost or decided to take an off road which gradually became so bad, their van was bogged down in mud and snow. After three days, Albert decided to try and get back to the main road.

For forty-nine days, Rita waited in the van, surviving on a tablespoon of trail mix, one fish oil tablet and one piece of hard candy, every day. She read and walked near the van and prayed.

Hunters came upon the van in a remote area of Elko County, Nevada. Rita most likely would not have survived much longer. She had lost 20-30 pounds and was extremely dehydrated when they found her.

Her husband has not been found. The search was called off today, due to bad weather.

Doctors are amazed that Rita has survived with so little nourishment, but some will say it was her will to live that kept her going.

I would assume her husband's will was/is just as strong.

One amazing ending occurred.

Why not two?

I'm Walking On F-ing Sunshine!

Despite the fact that I use the f-word on a regular basis and rail at the unfairness of life, I was honored with the Sunshine Award by Keri. Alwayscurtsywhenyousneeze.com

If you have not visited her site, I say run, don't walk on over. If I'm not laughing, I probably have mouth agape because she has some pretty incredible stories to tell.

We are supposed to tell something interesting about ourselves, but in keeping with sunshine and all, I just have one bit of news I'd like to share.

In seven months, I will be a grandma for the first. OMG. I'm way too young, but, I'm kind of excited about it. Wave over some good vibes if you can.

So, that's my news. Now, I have to share this award with other fabulous people. I'd like to  acknowledge a few people who make me laugh, and think, and nod along as I read their words. They make my day and I'm glad to know them, even in the virtual world of streaming stuff.

Trixie, you're the greatest.

Mr. Who, you're the best.

Mysterious Man from the shadows, I have learned quite a bit from your terrific posts. (even though I probably annoy the heck out of you. Tee-hee)

*Oh, and if you accept, you are supposed to tell us some juicy stuff about yourselves and pass the award on, if you wish.

Arnie The Arse

What a bastard. Arnold has a child with a former staff member.

Can I say something to all you men and women who plan on cheating and bringing forth children into the world?

Do you fucking realize that you hurt people? Do you realize that every thing that comes out of your mouth is a lie? Don't you care about integrity or morals?

Don't you give a damn about the person you have decided to swear an oath to; to honor and keep it in the pants?

Truly, you make me sick.

Don't get married. Don't commit to anything. Just go fuck around and be a shit-hole and stop ruining lives.

As for Maria and all the other women who stood by their man... Stop enabling them and stop accepting this type of behavior.

All this for a feel good moment. You really are stupid.

Worse than being stupid, is how morally bankrupt you are.

Oh, and to the staff member who let Arnie fuck her... you really are low.

Magpie Tales, #66 (Two Chilling Tales!!)

It's a book shelved in a nook

Could be about a crook

Let's 'ave a bloody look

Mystery in a book

Hidden clues, mistook

Ghostly chains that shook

Virgins, pirates took

Paper boats sail on a brook
A book, a book, a book!

Instructions on how to cook
Have you read about the Zook?
Erotica to unhook
Science gobbledygook
Don't buy that book, you schnook!
The man Jane Eyre forsook
Oh, I do love a whodunnit kind of book,
but I'd stay away from Kirkuk
So have yerself a look,
at the books within the nook.
READ A BOOK!

************************

Something snapped inside her head

all the years she spent day dreaming

her revenge will now be fed

twenty years of detailed scheming.

Their spawn she did so teach

she'll give them one last task,

they will beg, implore, beseech-

  as she thinks back and sees the mask.

When she entered Ms. Ames class

they had synchronized their mission

to make her the laughing ass-

without teacher's admonition.

They whispered Moosey Frankenstein,

her moniker of the day

"My name is Lucy Finkelstein,"

she screamed, "Just stay away!"

So now the day was here,

when their children will pay the price

for every slight and jeer,

they will read the book by Miley Cyrus,

not once, not twice, but thrice.

This second tale not so cheery. Especially if you are forced to read the book by Miley Cyrus.

For Magpie Tales, #66

My List Of Cats

Christina H. has an interesting article in Cracked.com. She claims nobody cares what you have to share, whether it be tweets, blogs, lists, chat logs, quizzes...

When she writes that no one is reading anyone else's tweets, I believe it. I don't. I've looked at a few chat logs. I was once on a site where you can have a virtual safari ride and I could see people chatting about their hangnails or some BS that had nothing to do with the safari. It's irritating, so I don't read them, either.

Christina says no one wants to read about your drama. I beg to differ. If it's done with humor and well written, I'm all eyes.

How about your list of... Again, it depends on the subject. Books, movies, songs- I read.
Anything to do with online games, burger joints, favorite reality celeb...pffffttt.

Number one on her list that people like to share, but no one gives a shit about, is your cats.

Guilty. But, in all fairness, I know this, yet, I still write about the little balls of fluff. I have to tell you what my cat did this mor.... Oh, okay. Nevermind.

As for Christina's article- so far it has, 760,746 views.

Do you think Christina read her own article, 760,745 times? Hmm...

The White Falcon

Oh, dear brother, what have we done

a conviction of fate, dealt and sealed,

vengeance his, for lack of son.

On dampened floors I have kneeled,

I pray for you, and the innocent four-

our King's heart blackened from Cromwell's will,

to keep his finery, to forego the oath he swore,
to God, to man, his wicked words instill.
As walls move in, I ask one thing,
to spare my child from this devil's tower,
 the eyes she shares with he, the King,
give her great strength, may she never cower.

*For Poetry Potluck. 'Fortresses, Castles, Palaces and Royal Houses.'

I Usually Keep My Monkey In My Purse

Great poster

I love the roller derby. There will be a brewhaha coming up as you can see by the fabulous poster. Love the poster. What's better than chicks on wheels and beer?

Well, men, but, that's another time and place.

******************

Well, we shall see if the Endeavor makes its final launch on Monday. They've got a $2 billion package to deliver.

*********************

Speaking of packages... Did you see in the news the story of the man who tried to smuggle two leopards, panthers, monkeys and a baby bear, in his suitcase? Jeez, what a mope.

*********************

Did you ever have one of those moments when the light goes on in your head and you know you have finally cracked the code? I have finally realized that Miss X is boinking Mr. Z and Mrs. Z seems clueless. And all it took for me to realize this was one look from Miss X to Mr. Z. It wasn't a look of lust or adoration. It was a look that only people who are intimate give. Miss X was angry about something someone had said and I think she expected some sort of back-up from Mr. Z, who pretended she didn't exist, although she was standing five feet from him. She gave him a looook that could kill, if only he had looked. 

Yeah, I gotta secret, but, I don't blab. I really think most partners know when a mate is not faithful. Besides, the only thing I have to go on is my super powers of intuition and reading body language. The lightbulb in my head was a 200 watt brilliant enlightenment. Ah, well...

******************

Oh, either this guy is a hero to you, or a really stupid father who should lose custody of his son. This man's young son has cancer and could not eat due to chemo. Dad slipped in some pot into his feeding tube which seemed to help his son. It won't cure him, but Dad may have eased his son's pain.

Hero or Stupid?

If my child was suffering, I think I'd do anything. Anything.

They's A Little Ornery, But They's Good Boys

It all started when the boys got into granmaw's elderberry wine. First, it was gonna be a ride down Trapper Hill on Joe's car dolly. But, then they started talkin' 'bout balloons.

They were gonna jump out the balloons stark naked into Old Lady Johnson's garden party, all because the old lady snubbed me once too often. They all knew I had the purtiest peonies around.

I thought it was all talk, until I seen Mr. Thibedeau walking right fast past my kitchen window. Now, Mr. Thibedeau had not been out o' his house in twelve years.

Something big was happening and I suddenly knew... it was my boys.

Damn them. Sure hope they live. I'll bring up some more o' Maw's elderberry wine. Maybe, I'll even crack open the Dandelion wine.

*For bluebellbooks I think the idea is to write a short story with the prompt given (balloon wine festival)

He Knows Everything!

I love him. Trixie's gonna stalk Mike Rowe. I'm sticking myself to Red.

Ray and Me and Wicked Thoughts

Sandusky, Ohio

I'm a big Ray Bradbury fan. I hear some think him a simpleton, not worthy to be read.

I respectfully disagree, and screw you- respectfully.

I saw this live cam from Sandusky, Ohio. I've been to Sandusky.

Moving on...

It reminded me of Bradbury's wicked book, SWTWC. I love, 'Something Wicked This Way Comes.'

I tried to find some excerpts from the book, but as usual, I was rerouted to something else that I found interesting. Emily Walshe, a librarian and professor at Long Island U. in New York, wrote an article in the Christian Science Monitor (March 18, 2009) about books and the new (no longer, new) reading devices.

She claims with the new technology, we are losing our freedom, our right to choose. We are letting others think and choose for us and we are becoming a society of wanderers. We own nothing, so cannot plant roots.

Well, that's how I'm reading her take on society shifts.

I understand her point that we don't have that solid print that we can call our own. Basically we are just borrowing books now and then tossing them into the virtual fire.

Maybe, sort of, hmm...

We may have had a book to hold and dog ear and slobber over, but we never really owned that either.

The sad part about not having that solid print... is not finding a gem someone may have left on a train, not being able to share a wonderful story with others.

Call me old school. I like books, the print kind. The kind you can feel and smell and make your own. The kind you can pass on to a friend.

A quote from Ray... "You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them."

I'm pretty sure Bradbury wasn't talking about the Kindle or Nook or...

Or... maybe, he was. Doodooodoodeedooo (Twilight Zone music)

A Cap For A Slug

Can this guy crawl any lower?

Meghan McCain was part of a PSA for skin cancer and apparently wore a nude colored dress, in order to simulate what going out in the sun without sunscreen could do to your body.

Apparently, Glenn Beck faked vomiting after seeing the ad. He made a few derogatory remarks about McCain's body and suggested she cover up. McCain has a response to Beck's vomit fest in the Daily Beast.

McCain is not a favorite of mine, but, she never deserved the disgusting actions of Beck.

How can someone as vile and gross and clueless look himself in the mirror every morning?

Oh, yeah. Slugs don't have mirrors.

The Importance Of Being Me

Amazingly, I didn't freak out because Blogger went down. I got a chance to see some blogger tweets. Pretty funny. Some bloggers were set to jump ship. Others just begged and moaned for Blogger to come back soon.

I like my blog, but in the scheme of things, it ain't anything to get worked up about if it disappeared forever. Good grief... some of the tweeting bloggers were distraught that their followers could not see their latest post.

So, I have seen Twitter and find it rather silly, although two comments I enjoyed were... 'Wordpress buys a round of drinks for all employees.' LOL. Yeah. And the other... '...resorted to talking to real people.'

My only grievance with the Blogger folks is that they never updated what was going on. Seriously, they need to look into some PR people. They say they suffered, too, because they also blog, so why didn't they have a guy or gal crying along with us?

Ah, well. I see KC had a gorgeous baby and the post is gone!! Congrats, KC.

Plus, my Bluebellsbook story was Pulitzer Prize winning stuff. Hope that comes back.

I also had time to invent a new recipe. Broccolli, cheese and taco Doritos. It's pretty awful. LOL.

Slutwalk

The Slutwalk started in Toronto after some idiot police officer opened his mouth and told a group of college students to refrain from dressing like 'sluts' in order not to be raped.

Apparently some people are still clueless about what rape is about.

Chicago will have a Slutwalk on June 4th.

Check out the site and join the Slutwalk.

A Happy Face

Do you like to watch medical shows? Oh, not stuff like 'Grey's Anatomy' or 'House', but the real thing.

I think I would have been a pretty good doctor except for all that 'cipering you gotta do.

"Nurse, give him five gallons of saline, stat." Yeah, I'd like to say stat. That would be fun.

Anyway, I have been intrigued by the news story of the young man who received a full face transplant. Dallas Wiens was painting a church when his head touched a high voltage power line. He spent 90 days in an induced coma while doctors tried to save his life. His face was literally burned off.

After a fifteen hour operation, Wiens has a new face. It really is quite amazing. He has regained his sense of smell. He will never see again, but his four year old daughter called him "handsome.'

There are a lot of photos of Wiens after the accident. He chose not to hide from the public. The images are a bit shocking at first, but the man is still there.

For me, I am fascinated with the amount of time it takes for the surgery. Not much info on that, but it is truly fantastic what can be done to give someone a new life.

We can all say looks don't matter, but it's pretty tough to go through life when you look different.

So, a nice story for a Thursday. : )

*For a more detailed account, go here.

Error, Error, Error

Is it me, or is Blogger having issues? I tried three times to get to my dashboard this morning and got three different error codes.

I am still having problems where my list of people I look forward to reading just disappear.

I know a few other bloggers have had issues with Blogger and have moved to wordpress or other blogging sites.

I'd go ask for help... but, the only thing I see is a site where you bitch to other bloggers who are having problems, too. It's sort of like the back alley of a restaurant- "Oh, you want help? Why, step this way."

Maybe Blogger is trying to tell me something.

Ah, well. If I don't see ya anymore, you know why.

Good Morning, Good Afternoon and if I don't see ya later, Bah-by.

Rotten Musings

"Oh, hello, are we on? This is my very first interview." (cross your fingers) "Hope it goes well."

"Say, rotten apples, how's that blog of yours going?"

"Hmm... zero hits, yesterday and the same today. I think some Russians looked at it once or twice."

"Well, maybe people don't get what it's about. What is it about about, anyway? I see some odd drawings and a word or two. Is there a point to it all?"

"Is there a point to anything? Okay, okay. Um, how do I explain...? I think it started because I was thinking about what kids are taught in school, but I wondered how many of them will know how to apply for a mortgage, or how many of them know how to invest their money wisely? I don't go into that because I myself never learned. I took the word of 'experts' and you know what, it's sort of a crappy feeling. So, I guess my other blog is about, "Hey, kids, wise up! Or... hey, grown-ups, teach kids what they will need to know in real life experiences. But, really, it's about me, farting around. Speaking of real life, gotta go make the nickels. That should be a post, soon, too."

"Okay, good luck with that."

"Oh, you too, thingy. I see the Russians like you too. LOL."

Witsey Wooey and the Dude

Yesterday was a bad day. You know, when you get that awful feeling in the pit of your stomach because you feel so rotten and you wonder why you bother anymore? That kind of day.

It all really started with a dream. For some reason Jeff Bridges felt the need to moon me. He didn't have a good dream ass, either. It was fat and wiggled like jello.

Don't ask about work... but I really think I'd make more money standing near the Ogilvie train station in Chicago, with my styrofoam cup, although, I'd use paper, cause styrofoam is bad.

The tub won't drain, the cat threw up three times, that yummy looking new drink from the yellow arches tasted like the back of a licked stamp and life just seemed an ugly place.

Then, a tiny little miracle happened. Mr witsy-wooey sat on my lap. This is a cat who will run if anyone comes into the house. He will hide for hours- a paper bag sends him running. He is the sweetest cat, but trusts no one. He came from a no kill shelter, so his past is a mystery.

How did he know?

He took away the ugly for awhile. Life can be so awful and horrible and so unbelievably cruel, yet, a simple moment just makes looking towards another day, okay.

Damn, still can't get Bridges dream ass out of my head, though.

Weep For Him

There really are no words to say.

The next I time I start to grumble about having to wait in line an extra five minutes, I will think of Christian Choate.

The thirteen year old boy was locked in a cage for over a year until the day his father beat him so severely he died in his prison. His biological father and stepmother then wrapped his body in garbage bags and buried him under concrete.

For two years, no one missed him.

I don't usually like the eye for eye justice, but in this case, I would like to see these human scum do their time locked in a cage.

Grateful For Cheese And Other Things

Photo by nettsu

Nice things happen around a grilled cheese sandwich. My daughter told me she loved me while we sat at the kitchen table. It was just the two of us. We looked out the window and watched the sailboats float across the water. It was a good day.

He didn't have to tell me that he loved me when he carried in a tray of food. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to tell him you don't feed a flu ridden person gooey, cheesy, yellow things, but I couldn't do it- he looked so happy.

It was really, really wrong, but, I loved him for it.

A hundred moons later... the man is gone from my life, but last Sunday my daughter and I ate grilled cheese sandwiches and we didn't have to say anything. It was a very good day.

* I found this terrific recipe to make grilled cheese sandwiches, Milan style, on www.food.com. Yuuuuuuuuuuummmmmm.