So Then Sunday … Trumpian Design (song)

You know I’ve been doing my ‘parody’ song thing for quite a while now, goin’ on four years I think, some of them have been pretty good and some of them have been absolute shit. But I thought I’d go back today to my first one when I was part of Morning Show. It was about a story of “intelligent design” and the attempt to rename creationism to make it sound more science-like. Don’t get me started on that nonsense. Now the production quality on that one was pretty rough and it was also 17 years ago and I had only been back in radio for a couple of years (after a six year layoff) so my production skills were still a work in progress.

It was to one of my favorite tunes ever, Dire Straits “Industrial Disease”.

Though that initial attempt wasn’t all that good (lyrically it was – it made a point of the dumb) I decided, a number of years later, December of ’19, to update it to the then current state of orange madness we were in.

This new one still made a good point of the dumb.


There’s warning light’s a flashin’ for a Trumpian reprieve

There was some election riggin’, with some Russians up a sleeve

But Dem’s they did some diggin’ to more meddlin’ goin’ round

And now they’re out to make sure that the walls they come down

There’s a meeting in the Congress they’re talkin’ of impeach

One side says yes let’s do it, to the other it’s a reach

But the other side’s brought nothing but debunked conspiracies

Goodness me could this be a Trumpian Disease?


The President feels justified in talking to the folks

Refusin’ to be quieted and sayin’ it’s no joke

His phone call it was perfect, no ulterior design

He wasn’t tryin’ get help for this new election time

But there’s panic for the Elephant’s these Donkeys all are nuts

The oft repeated tired spin will tell you what is what

That the problem that persists with the Dems all of the time

Is them fighting against great leader’s Trumpian Design

State news pundits sure are down with perpetuating lies

Even Moscow Tucker claims he’d be Ok with Russian ties

Of rooting them to victory if that need be the case

Or condemning ol’ Ukraine to help trump D who’s his ace

And Trumpy’s lackey lapdogs are now picking up the pace

Of lies needed protect him ‘fore the Senate do they race

Where they’re better able set the Circus Trump he so inclines

To make a victim’s case and prove his Trumpian Design

Now William The Low Barr declared

There’s no crimes to be seen here, he’s the President ya know

He’s above law, never fear

Now he hired me to be his hatchet gun and yes man shill

To protect from prosecution while I drink this orange swill

So I openly investigate investigators then

Prove wacky 4 chan theories of disloyal deep state men—

So I can come back with a pre-determined breaking news release

That will prove out the correctness of a Trumpian Disease

Now we go down Washington DC where they’re in the muck

Of a swamp that ain’t been drained just deeper & run amok

With all his jailhouse friends most found under a bus

But there’s still some who are waitin’ to hear a pardon’s fuss

While his blood bound GOP who he’s got upon their knees

Say yes sir, no sir, of course sir, anything that you please

We’ll protect you oh great leader from the dreaded Dem blue sleaze

We’ll throw up smoke & mirrors for you on your Trump Trapeze

They’ll point out they’re the enemy to keep folks mute & blind

That they should be a’feared of Dems & all those of their kind

That they speak of socialism & the evils of the trees

But you’re the God chose new Messiah heaven gave ya keys

Meanwhile God just throws his hands exasperation real

He can’t believe what is unfolding just what is the deal

A party selling country out while building a lie shrine.

To their new Monarch’s Trumpian Design

Yeah, that’s it … a Trumpian Design … Hey producer guy? Yeah, you … can we get the sound of ya know of tanks and a flyover here or somethin’? … the sound of boots too, tall ones, really hard heels … boots doin’ some marchin’ … well crowd noise, good idea … get some crowd noise …  big crowd noise though, ‘kay? … then, maybe throw in some of the best words from some of the best speeches … by any President … ever … this is gonna be great!


Take It To The SCOTUS (song)

Ok, I don’t really have much for the saying right now, just a Supreme Court thing.

(to the Talking Heads version of “Take Me To The River”)

We don’t know why you livin’ like ya do

G O P can – help you un-blue

We stole two seats now to leave you bereft

Of any hope of what – fair was left

And we wanna know – and we’ll – tell you

Progress stops right here


We’ll take it to the SCOTUS

A court beholden to us

We’ll take it all to SCOTUS

Partis’n arm we made thus

To lead it around

Backwards where we’ll be found


The extremists are not on the left

That’s just cry rally we’ve always kept

No radical court – it’ s square to the right

They hem and haw but it’s in plain sight

Want you to know, can’t you – see how

We lead them by the haaaaand


Take it to the SCOTUS

A court beholden to us

We’ll take it all to SCOTUS

Partis’n arm we made thus

To drag your rights down

Backwards where we’ll be ….


Crosshairs, dazed stares, we don’t care, what you want here

Till we can’t,

Till we can’t,

Hold our glee at

Our own court’s red de-crees now


It’s a court beholden to us

We’ll take it all to SCOTUS

Partis’n arm we made thus

To lead it around

Backwards where we’ll be found


We don’t know why you’re stewing like ya do

Bout all the rights – next in the queue

To be struck down now  – with radical hand

Voting women equal they don’t stand a chance


Want you to know now

That your rights now

Are up to Uuuuusssss

We’ll take it to the SCOTUS

A court beholden to us

We’ll take it all to SCOTUS

Partis’n arm we made thus

To lead it around

Backwards where we’ll be found

We’ll take it, we’ll take it, we’ll take it to the SCOTUS

They’re all ours now and we’re gonna have them show us

We’ll take it, we’ll take it, we’ll take it to the SCOTUS

You’re gonna regret that you didn’t vote for us

We’ll take it, we’ll take it, we’ll take it to the SCOTUS

We own them now and they’re gonna send us backwards fast

So Then Sunday … Kingmaker (song)

I know this one is only from last November, the end of another High School football season, one of my favorite things, but it kinda rocks and I like it so …


(from Nov 20, 2021)

After 10 weeks of some Friday Night Lights Football return where I made a few well needed bucks and was reminded of enjoying the hell out of myself on these nights again after a COVID year’s layoff, walked some pretty darn good High School Football sideline games with my parabolic along the way or some not so much (rain games with lightning bolt holds, penalty flags like confetti and curious overtime finale’s) but whose nights caught up with up with me and my sometimes old, especially the last two cold ones, I finally got a chance to NOT Friday Night Lights Football with our season done and just hang in my little studio after work knowing that I was going to get home and then hang with the girls and a PC and headphones at a reasonable hour, no driving up the state at the end of a regular day for a two hour ride, a five hour work a game and a two hour return.

Mimi the Quirky wouldn’t rasp at me tonight at my late. Cricket the Blind wouldn’t feel as needy after a finally sat lap and little Bella wouldn’t just stare in her wide eyed disapproving blinklessness, as she blinklessly does at the door wondering where the fuck I’ve been, but instead, wind sprint across the hardwood excited that it wasn’t one in the morning.

I was back at a MY return Friday, a regular Friday, though a still a make a point Friday it seems, always wishing I didn’t have to make some point again, thinking that after 10 weeks of not making points and thinking of only immediate things, like that one kid rushing and passing Kyler Murray-like top of game, where the world was just yards gained and pretty tip toe pylons, crowds roaring or crowds cursing, that maybe the need for making points would have faded a bit while I was sidelining in a temporary no need for points to make kinda world.

Hey, a boy can dream right … but if I’m going to have to make a point again?

A new it needs be tune then … and loud


(To Green Day’s “Troublemaker” from “Uno!” … have instrumental and new lyrics will travel)



Woo hoo hoo


Democracy’s under attack

Right in plain sight a lockstep right

Work their authoritarian plight


They wanna control the states

So next time vote around they’ll mess ‘bove ground

Mold sham results for self-serving tastes

They wanna be some new Kingmakers

Autocracy’s G-O-P takers

They wanna be some new Kingmakers

Great leader’s cult first of new shakers


We like your lie moxie cool

Obstructive whitewash of what was true

It’s quite impressive in its attempt at coup


His Rally’s his palace days  

He’s sounding loaded, old lie bloated

In his propagandist playbook word salad way

They wanna be some new Kingmakers

Autocracy’s G-O-P takers

They wanna be some new Kingmakers

Great leader’s cult first of new shakers


Woooh oooh oooh

Woooh oooh oooh

Woooh oooh oooh


They saw election pass with result a bad state

So pass suppression laws before it’s too late

Present these measures in a group all for one haste

Integrity’s at stake the big lie is the play that they make


Democracy’s under attack

Right in plain sight a lockstep right

Work their authoritarian plight


They do their do


A lie’s whose who


Who know the screw


A fascist stew


So Then Sunday: Earrings For Mom On Mother’s Day

(from this time last year)

Dad: (outside voice in the car) Oh, Stephy, your mother would like it just as much if you just made her something, made her a card, you know, draw her a picture and make her a card, with lots of colors. You like to draw. Tell her how much you love her. (inside voice) sorry Stephen but we’re NOT going to the jewelry store.

Me: But Daaaad, I want to get her something nice and she likes earrings, the long ones, can’t I get her some earrings?

Dad: (outside voice) Well I have to stop for gas, you can get it if you’d like.

Me: Can I?!

Dad: (inside voice) nicely done Joe (outside voice) Of course, I need a full tank for work on Monday and you can make sure of it, then we have to stop at Red Mills for a few things your Mom wants us to pick up for dinner tonight.

Me: Then maybe to the earring store?

Dad: (inside voice) damn he’s good (outside voice) Well that’s a little bit out of the way and we don’t want to be late for your Mom right?

Me: No, I gueeeess, she’ll get mad. Tomorrow maybe?

Dad: (outside voice) Well, tomorrow is already Mother’s Day plus we have to get the things she wants and then go to church and then come home for din …

Me: Ooohhhhh Chuuuurch?!!! But it’s Mother’s Day tomorrow!!

Dad: (inside voice) sigh. (outside voice) Church doesn’t think about things like that, you still go no matter what day tomorrow is. I’ll tell you what. We’ll pick up a few things your Mom doesn’t know about.

Me: Like what?

Dad: Some color markers and some paper, the big paper so you can make her that card, a really special one. Maybe even some other things to add to it. So much better than earrings

Me: Really?

Dad: Oh, yes

Me: One of the ones with so many colors? The big box?

Dad: Yeah, but just between you and me of course.

Me: Oh … of course … of course? … oh, of course … Yes.

Dad: (inside voice) whewww … wow, I hope Red Mills has some flowers.

Not quite the same Ma, but Happy Mother’s Day. You too Sis. Love ya.

Mom's Day poster


Friday … We Want You To Be We (song)

I get no greater joy than a Friday night … really Steve, you don’t say … sorry, I guess that’s kind of an obvious thing right? duh? huh? Friday? But not something like, say, a Friday of my youth where stupid might have been my wingman and no matter how I may have tried to corral him he still remained stupid.

No, I get no greater joy now than a Friday night solo and maybe a new thing (stupid? Love ya brother, you had your moments … oh, and you still owe me 20 bucks by the way … ) or even a not new thing. Maybe just some simple words or the Magnum reboot season four, it should be tonight if it’s not taking that annoying seeming random week off or maybe Blue Bloods the same case (is it just me or is it just too funny cool that a show with Tom Selleck is preceded by a Magnum P.I. reboot? … yeah, probably just me).

But a new thing for me is a bit of tune, an attempt at saying something at a Friday, things, pieces sung in my little studio and emailed home followed by a somewhat late car ride and late cat hello’s and late cat food bowls and late apologies for a soon to be one mindedness with headphones and an editing.

And it doesn’t even have to be any good.

I get no greater joy than a Friday night.

(this one is for all the conservatives out there who somehow feel that THEY’RE being persecuted in their beliefs by not being allowed to dictate how everyone else lives – Fuck you)


(to Cheap Trick “I Want You To Want Me”)

We Want You … To Be … We

We want you to be we

We need you to be we

We’ll force so please just a-gree

Can’t have you livin’ feelin’ free

We want you to be we

Not right to live to your own de-gree

We know what’s best as only god does decree

We’ll shine up our partisan court, the one that’s been godly bought

Parade them over your free thought, make sure that you are sin free

We’re tired of spending time feelin’ persecuted

We need able dictate how your lives are executed  

It’s not fair to watch you all go about your happy dailies

While we’re forced to fret and live with all your evil failings

We want you to be we

See country the way that it should be

Revisioned right light history

One white and straight you’ll all see

And shine up on all old hurts, of unallowed to convert

Bring handmaids to life, ‘cause we know just what is right

Will we neglect children after grabbing their first real air

Of course cause hypocrisy we’ve got plenty in spare

We’ll only find our end until it is that you all stop tryin’

Pursuit of happiness is up to us to do the decidin’


We’ll work in a morality play’s future dire warnin’

But that future won’t know it from this backwards day future dawnin’


We want you to be we

We need you to be we

We’ll force so please just a-gree

And gay marriage is soon next up on the tee

We want you to be we

We need you to be we

We’ll force so please just a-gree

You’ll thank us soon you’ll all see


(Yes, I realize today is Tuesday for this “So Then Sunday” post … what of it?! … but these “So Then’s” are my take on a Throwback Thursday kinda thing, that I occasionally do on Sundays re-posting older bits that is happening on a Tuesday here instead and yes, I do sometimes eventually wonder what the hell day it is)

From Facebook, Sunday May 1st where I linked this older post:

In talking with a good friend at work recently about, well, nothing really, just the talking that gets you through the day, in a good way mind you, the best of talk, that talk of that nothing and some everything, he mentioned having to log into the “portal” of his medical account or something of the sort, like “portal” is somehow a normal thing.

It made me think of this post from a couple of years ago.


(posted here in the Attic June 23, 2020)

When I recently had an allergic reaction to a medicine I’ve been taking for just a short period of time that blew my face up into a bulbous early Halloween costume winner I was relieved by a couple of things.

One, there was the relief after the urgent care Doc gave a diagnosis, that was then confirmed by my doctor, of it simply being said allergic reaction and that it wasn’t something that was … ya know … gonna dead me.

And two, I was relieved that my “bold” “dangerous” “fierce” “had us trembling under the bed” new look, as some influencers and trendies may have exclaimed, didn’t last very long, and, more importantly, not long enough for the villagers down in the town to make the discovery of the new monster up on the hill forcing them in anger and fear to their woodsheds and barns for torches and pitchforks and Sharpee’s for crudely fashioned and misspelled signs.

But of course that relief couldn’t be allowed to last very long now could it, as later on that afternoon, when checking my bank account online I realized that instead of me just paying my 40 dollar co-pay before I was seen, I had somehow, accidentally, paid my entire balance of 1300 hundred dollars instead. Son of a bitch.

Yeah, that came as QUIIIIIIITE a shock, even more so than my lumpy, just not quite right porridge face, though for those of you who know me I’m sure you don’t find such an accidental occurrence all that surprising, but that would have caused some serious issues in the Land of Steve if I couldn’t get it reversed.

Eventually I was able to get things worked out and get my money back but in the process I also realized, shit!, I have a balance of 1300 bucks with these folks, so I asked the woman who assisted me if I could set up a monthly thing, like I have with a number of creditors for medical bills stemming from my hospital limbo shuffling slow hallway hospital socks for nine days discovered adrenal deficiency something or other requiring a daily steroid dose now vacation a few years ago. I asked if could set something up for, say, 25 bucks a month, like I do with the others only to be told that they don’t set up automatic payments for an amount as small as that because, of course, why would they? I mean if you’re gonna keep up appearances of being part of the remarkably unaffordable world of U.S healthcare you gotta even have payment plan standards that are difficult.

I figured though, that I would just go to this company’s website, find my account and start paying this 25 bucks on my own. I’d get the small money ball rolling at least. Easy right? HeHeHe. Oh, you are so gullible my friends. No, first thing I discovered, and I haven’t been to the site in a while, not since I set up the account years ago, was that they’ve changed their password requirements “FOR YOUR SECURITY” as well as added some new steps of verifying who you are.

Now let’s get one thing straight, and I don’t think I’m alone here, I DON’T WANT TO CHANGE MY FUCKING PASSWORD!!! And it’s not like this is some monetary account, like my checking or my HSA or that stash in the Caymen’s from that last bank job (the one Billy almost fucked up – and I SAID “don’t think Billy, please just don’t fucking think, just drive the car Billy … just … drive … the … fucking … car”) or the stock investment portfolio I don’t want to brag on about. I mean, what’s the concern here? That some no goodster online meanie person is going to hack my account and do what? Pay my bill?

And I don’t want to come up with a new password with a minimum whatever the hell they’re asking for now, like 37 characters, a capital letter, a number, a symbol, any town in Bulgaria but spelled backwards and a trucker handle from the 70’s.

And the other new security measures. 5 questions? Really??!!

Well, and I don’t care if you all know, but my first girlfriend, my first pet, my second Grandma on my mother’s side, my third Grandad on my dad’s side and my fourth Elementary school after I was kicked out the first three are all, coincidentally, named Bob.

But, once you get past all of this, you are then ready to log into … the Portal?!

Ok but no, hell no, that’s the last straw. It’s NOT a freakin’ Portal!!! it’s just me logging into my account at a website! If I’m going to enter any type of “Portal” it’s going be something space age and futuristic and all science fictiony and shit. It’s going to transport me to another dimension, take me to the future, drop me into a world that isn’t as batshit crazy and astoundingly dumb as this current one, it’s going whisk me away to a universe with all the rainbow of colors alien chicks Captain Kirk slept with (I’ll bring condoms though, the large size, just in case, I mean ya never know what weirdness might arise in this strange new universe. Plus, love James T an’ all, but I don’t trust where he’s been) but it’s definitely NOT going be my boring and depressing account, life, at a medical company’s website with a history that just shows me getting old with a daunting balance.

Well, anyway, I stopped at “Portal” and closed things out before it spirited me away to someplace even more exciting than my medical bills, like maybe the details of my bankruptcy 7 years ago or my tax return history.

I’ll try again tomorrow I guess.

Freakin’ portals.

The DeSantis He Can (song)

It’s so nice to finally have my Adobe app back on the PC at home (thank you Evan IT guy for figuring out what was blocking it from re-loading here after my Windows crash a little while ago).

So much better to “sing” pieces done in my little studio on a Friday night and then get to come home and relax with the editing and building over a beer or two and a Cricket on a lap and a Bella on a futon, humans, as always, relegated to whatever’s, as opposed to having to do it all there and then get home waaaaay too late.

Anyway, I took my version of Sammy Davis Junior’s “The Candy Man” from last month, The GOP Can, and reworked it for our dear wished new great leader Ron DeSantis.

Oh what a savior he promises to be … in the worst of possible world.

Alright everybody

Gather round DeSantis man is here

Now what kinda country he want?

Ignorant, compliant, revised history, brainwashed

A Fourth Reich?

He’s working on a right plan because only DeSantis can

Who can take agenda (who can take agenda)

Of a fascist POTUS dream (a fascist POTUS dream)

Put it into practice Flor-ida a test run scheme

The Ronnie can (the Ronnie can)

Oooh DeSantis he can (DeSantis he can)

DeSantis he can

Test there his despot plan, prove self a new strongman

Who can make the classroom (who can make the classroom)

A site of culture wars (a site of culture wars)

Make them a battleground to settle whitey grievance scores

The Ronnie can (the Ronnie can)

DeSantis he can (DeSantis he can)

DeSantis projects into classroom learning texts

Indoctrination’s pre-text

And then he just bakes everything at stake

A vision’s cake of normal crumblin’

He’ll make the gays and blacks go runnin’

Applaud him please for his true cunnin’

Ohhhh who can fudge the numbers (who can fudge the numbers) 

Of a shit COVID response (a shit COVID response)

And jackboot whistleblowers who point that out at once

The Ronnie can (the Ronnie can)

Oooh DeSantis he can (DeSantis he can)

Collateral damage was always part of plan 

No worries if base at hand

And then he put the brakes on election takes

That his was one of real gold standard

Integrity it must be mastered

The big lie being votes true bastard

Yeah Yeah Yeah

Who can add police force (who can add police force)

For this claimed integrity (this claimed integrity)

And have it to intimidate new SS just for he

The Ronnie can (the Ronnie can)

Oooh DeSantis he can (DeSantis he can)

DeSantis he can Democracy it’s not the plan

Fourth Reich new Uncle Sam

DeSantis he can even take a Disney stand

Free speech an also ran

DeSantis can

DeSantis can

DeSantis he caaaannn

DeSantis can

DeSantis can

DeSantis he caaaannn

Alright everybody

That was nice

Break it up now

It’s curfew

Go home

Stay straight

Stay white

Of Spring … (and cats and dogs and dead snakes)

(facebook April 14th)

When I came home yesterday Bella was in her usual spot, on her comforter bed in the living room (shut up … yes, she has her own comforter and apparently she called in housekeeping while I was out to have them turn it down).

This is one of her two spots, the other being on a folded blanket on the futon dresser/done dryer hamper dump spot in the bedroom, and she was in one or the other all winter … until this morning.

I turned off the heat yesterday evening and this morning before I left, I pulled back the blanket (part of the crack house chic collection) that covers the bedroom window looking out over the front yard and driveway and that has a cat seat of hers, one she hasn’t used since last Fall, and I opened it up.

She was back in that window seat quicker than in a flat eared wide eyed mad crazed cat ghost sprint and I could see her still in that spot as I drove up the hill tonight.

Ahhhhh Spring …

(WTF dude!? I finally have my seat and open window back and the first thing I’m looking at is a dog!? A freakin’ dog!? One of those slobbery not cat things from downstairs!? Seriously dude, WTF!?)


(facebook April 15th)

Stopped at PetSmart on the way home tonight because, well, ya know, pets, I got ‘em, so it’s a store that fills needs, to see if they had some of the Fancy Feast “Savory Centers” which I have been lax on re-filling our supply of recently here in Frankenland, lax for the doldrums of cold and just not really wanting to stop and get out of the car as there are plenty of backup of other choices, but that is something, “other choices”, that is none too subtly pointed out to me to be entirely unacceptable with quick snap head turn southern belle-esque dismissive “huffs” (Bella) or immediate swipe-swipe, drag-drag “buryings” (Cricket) of anything else I bowl in front of them from the winter’s stock, even things formerly eagerly lapped at (I think I’ve created a new sad addiction story of “centers heads” like I’m some sort of pusher now).

While I was there though, grabbing two boxes of the “Savory Centers” variety 12 pack, I was taken aback by a sticker on the Fancy Feast shelf of a deal that I couldn’t believe was actually real, especially as PetSmart can be a bit expensive. I mean how did someone in marketing not lose a job over practically giving away the store like this?

I was so torn on the 24-47 can savings or the even more remarkable 48 or more can savings that I just stood there in disbelief as I tried to figure out the math of this possible good fortune in my head (never a good thing that math in the head by the way, decimal points can so easily go awry and can even make ya dizzy).

I also had to consider the “must act now!” nature of this deal as it had a deadline. Would I kick myself for not taking advantage of what was almost a flat out giveaway if I didn’t indeed “must act now!” before May 1st?

Sigh, such a quandary.

But alas, I couldn’t realize these phenomenal savings as none of the possible bulk buy cans were of the cat crack of “Savory Centers” for future broken cat sad stories to be told another time in “centers heads” dark street back alleyways documentaries, just the regular cans of Fancy Feast choices that get huffed at or buried these days.

No, I had to continue being the pusher.

The savory centers pusher.

I’m not proud of it.

But man, if only those pennies …


Tappy tappy tappy stop … tappy tappy tappy stop … over my head, a pitter patter of paws a runnin’ and a stoppin’.

Runnin’? Finally a window down the way opened as paws rejoiced … stoppin’? Only if someone looks up and notices, a comic pause. I’ve been waiting for this and to hark back to the Cat Publication reviews of the play Cat On A Cold Tile Roof and the follow up post Cat On A Cold Tile Roof Too again as I just think they’re funny. I get no greater joy or comfort than to hear cats stepping, running on/over my head. Finally. And I mean that.

(Florida and Handsome from few years ago above my bedroom)

One of my favorite pics of this place, Florida and a “What?” … it just makes me laugh

This is Spring.

Bella getting her window back, Cricket the Blind the same in head loll breezes, rolling down some windows and not minding getting out of the car …

… and some of the Celie gang out her bedroom window to run the place and remind that we circle and eventually come out of the cold … and with no “untils”, not just yet.


As part of this tappy tappy tappy stop, I get visitors outside the living room I never living room in, have never even really sat in, it’s Bella’s room, my windows there existing only for the pretty view down the driveway and the fenced in cow field running along it and the horse fenced field at the bottom or the developmented small Poughkeepsie hills in the distance that look so cozy at night, a Bella chair or cat tower or for just this, the sighting of hello’s outside my dust, every turn Spring, from fur that find me brand new, momentarily, on rooftops even though they know me.

Today was Loki, the snake killer, killing Celie in her Indiana Jones-like hating snakes screams of found Loki Spring surprises in her living room, while he lounged self satisfied cleaning himself next to his kill. He is the handsomest of cat, even more handsome than Handsome who is named Handsome for a reason (refer to link to Cat On A Cold Tile Roof Too from above – just try not to be himpmotized when you do).

He poked his head up outside that living room window, and was surprised, as all the others are, for a moment, until he realized it was just me while saying “Hey, I know you right?”

Bella even hopped up and gave him a check, ears spot.


Celie came home earlier right after I had gone downstairs to get something from the car and for a fur head check, no real reason, just a me wanting to count names and look in and she said “It’s finally kinda nice out there”

“I know, not quite as nice as yesterday, a little damp, but I’ll take it”

“Me too”

“Had a visit from Loki outside my window earlier”

“Did he bring you a dead snake?”

“Not yet”

“Give him time … freakin’ killer”

Angel Of Death: End Of Days, Route 9, Poughkeepsie???

(and a guy dressed as the Grim Reaper with an hourglass in the middle of route 9 leads …)

So I saw the Angel of Death tonight … on Route 9 in Poughkeepsie standing on the median between the North and South triple lanes, at a traffic light, near a T.G.I. Friday’s and a Mattress Firm and across from a new specialty soap shop, a new Sleep Number Bed place and a convenience store among a number of other spots.

Tall guy dressed as you might expect of an Angel of Death/Grim Reaper type. Long black robe, oversized hood and he was pointing at things, menacingly, possibly specialty soaps and he seemed like he might even have been yelling though I couldn’t really hear as I passed him amid that damned rock n roll I was playing too loudly on a nice sunny almost Spring evening, finally, one you surely wouldn’t expect the end of days to arrive on, at least you’d hope not, though I’m afraid my Mom might feel vindicated now all these years later of her worries of, when I was younger, while I was playing that damned rock and roll too loudly back then as well and cutting up perfectly good heavy metal band concert T-shirts to have her sew them on the back of denim jackets, that some might think the end of days would sneak up on me because I wouldn’t hear it/them coming.

The only thing out of the ordinary for this particular Angel of Death though was that he was carrying an hourglass. Not that Angels of Death don’t sometimes carry hourglasses, they do, I’ve seen artist renderings, some pretty cool artist renderings, but this was in lieu of the tall, sharp, pointy, violent looking scythe’s we’ve more come to expect in a clichéd Angel of Death kinda way which, truth be told, is probably for the best in this day and age that that wasn’t what he was carrying (unless it fits with some want of a scythe political agenda).

Tall, sharp, pointy violent looking clichéd scythe’s? Yeah, that’ll getcha noticed, and not in a good way, and possibly even get ya tased or worse. Hourglass? Much less threatening.

I did though think, if I could have, that I would have politely pointed out that this hourglass of his was a little small, comically so actually, not really of a size befitting his stature or one to really get him noticed in the middle of a busy roadway here in Poughkeepsie, and right at the height of an evening rush hour with people being lost in thoughts of get homes and dinners and dog walkings and sweatpants and checkings in on that show that you’re pretty sure your better half cheated on and watched the next episode of without you, again, and conversations/angers left open ended the night before.

I would have pointed out that he needed something a bit more dramatic, more theatrical, something oversized to really catch that thought lost eye. The hourglass he had was, well, a little on the Spinal Tappy Stonehenge side but with him being the Angel of Death an all, I would have been as deferential and as delicate as I could with this observation (plus, he most probably still had that clichéd scythe somewhere in reserve – and that shit looks like it would hurt … a lot, like in a death kind of way).

Now was there any reason, I thought, any significance to this specific spot of his as I drove past? I don’t know. Was this where the thunders and the lightnings, the great fires or floods, or great fires followed by floods to drown out great fires making people tread water in floaties the only thing they had at hand, damn the children, the pestilences and rivers of blood were newly ordained to happen, or was he just waiting on a pick up order from that T.G.I. Friday’s and doing what Angels of Death do to pass the time, what little time may be left?

Had he been maybe having some trouble sleeping recently (certainly possible as carrying the weight of his message has gotta be a heavy sleepless nights kinda burden) thus reason to be in between a Mattress Firm and a Sleep Number Bed store or was he really pointing menacingly at specialty soaps, a could be 21st century haven of witchcraft with all the witch-like curatives some of the soaps and maybe oils and creams inside can surely promise … plus Hell, you know there’s gotta be a crystal or two hanging in there somewhere right? Or maybe he was just waiting to cross the highway way to get to the convenience store for a pack of smokes thinking to his Death self, well, if I’m bringing word of the end of the world to the peoples, I might as well smoke up while I can.

I don’t know. Whatever the reason was for that location or whatever the reason wasn’t, all I really thought on my way home after passing this Angel of Death fella with his too small hourglass (you just need a big black sports hearse car to compensate my not friend) was “listen, if this is it tonight big guy, if this is the end of days, after you’ve possibly picked up your order at T.G.I. Friday’s could you …

“Hi, can I help you sir?”

“I’m here for a pick-up”

“Your name?”


“Angel? Hold on … I’m sorry I’m not seeing that here for our pick-up orders right now”

“You sure … nothing under the name Angel? With an A?”

“I can spell Angel sir, thank you, and sorry, but no … could you have ordered under a different name?”

“Oh wait, you know what, I may have. Do you have one under the name Death?”

“Death … Death … Death … sorry busy night … hold on … oh, here we go … Death … burger, blood rare, locusts, frogs, extra cheese, fries and the apple cobbler dessert special?”

“Yep, that’s me. Sorry, I don’t usually use the last name, way too formal and can be a little off-putting”

“No worries Sir. Let me get that for you, Oh, and by the way? Cool hood”

“Oh, well thank you so much”

“I would say though, if you don’t mind a little constructive criticism, that you get a slightly larger hourglass”

… and could you, after you’ve put a deposit down on a new bed …

“You’ll be so happy you chose our little slice of sleep heaven … (stop short silent stare) … sorry, my bad … probably not the best of selling points for you I’m thinking now … you’ll be so happy you chose our bed Mr. Death instead of something that feels like a bed of nails like from those sleep hacks across the street …”

“They have something that feels like a bed of nails?”


“Bed of nails, those sleep hacks across the street have something that feels like a bed of nails?”

“Ummm, well yeah, that’s what we say … Ok, but hold on, I got ya. If you’d like, Jimmy, one of our delivery drivers, works at a small local hardware store and I’m sure we could throw in a bag of nails, support small business right, that you can toss on the bed, like scattering rose petals for you and the Missus …”

“There’s no Missus … I’m Death. It would make holiday family get togethers very uncomfortable.”

“Ok, well, bag of nails just for YOU it is”

… and then after checking in on potential modern day witches …

“Do you have a soap or some oils that can just ease some tension, possibly transport me away to a better place? I think I’ve seen a commercial like that”

“Why of course sir”

“A place like  … HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Ummmmmmm, well … (glancing over at a crystal)”

“Gotcha!!” …

… and after you’ve a grabbed a smoke outside the Exxon while getting yelled at for your loitering could you at least let me feed the cats and have my dinner and maybe clean a litter box or two? I would SOOOOOO hate to have to face the end of days, you know, the rapture or something, even if you all do the rapture, I’m not sure, or some sort of reckoning, with messy litter boxes and on an empty stomach.

“Will do”


Last Fancy Feast “Savory Centers” girls.

Eat up. Quickly. I don’t know what kind of deadline he’s facing.

Existential Cat

Full bore Cricket the Blind at around her usual 6am the other morning after hopping down off the bed from her comfy spot and heading to the office.

Clocking in she grabs her clipboard and a pencil:

1. Loudly scratch the large flat cat scratcher – CHECK.

2. Messily slap the shit out of the water bowls and the water in them before standing/playing in one or both said bowls like kiddie pools to slurp water off paw and hope that mom comes out with sandwiches and Kool Aid – CHECK.

3. Crunch away at hard food with mouth open – CHECK.

4. Sit for a moment and wail mournful sounding meows as if at the funeral of a cat friend while dropping flowers on the grave – CHECK.

5. Take a head lolling roomba cat stroll around the apartment until I hear little Bella hiss from her comforter cat bed – CHECK.

6. Return to water bowls, commence with more water slapping kiddie pool standing paw slurping or maybe even actual very audible water drinking – CHECK.

7. Think about puking or actually puke – CHECK.

8. Hit the litter box. Literally “hit” the litter box, on all sides inside, even sides that aren’t actually the litter box but can be called wall, scratch and drag and Bugs Bunny back kick while I pull the covers over my head trying not to hear the litter that’s raining down on the hardwood outside the box like hail – CHECK.

9. Hang clipboard in it’s spot, clock out and hop back up onto the bed to grab another comfy spot next to or on a now fully awake Steve, her work complete – CHECK.

Freakin’ noisy messy-ass cat.

Love her.

New addition to her office clipboard checklist this morning though.

10. Meow one solitary meow after the clocking out that sounds exactly and strangely like “Whyyyyyyyy?” – CHECK.

Freakin’ noisy messy-ass existential cat.