A Kitten-Palooza At HVARS

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 07-20-19)

About a week or so ago Celie (my landlady) decided to bring a group of gray kittens back up to the house from the shelter. It was the Gang of Five who had started their kitten gig here at the house, with many a too cute picture being taken by this resident cat guy at the time, but eventually had their way made down the hill to the shelter to be “seen”. After one was seen and adopted the Gang of Five became the Gang of Four (don’t know if they “love a man in a uniform” or not, they’re cats after all, though surely there are plenty of children’s books with cutely uniformed cats performing cutely uniformed jobs in them so it’s possible…sorry old band/song reference…I could go on). Celie just loves this long hair/short hair set of fur which if you met them you’d understand, as do I, and she wanted to give them a little space in the Sunroom. Plus the shelter right now, Hudson Valley Animal Rescue and Sanctuary, is kitten-palooza so it needed a little space as well.

Now I hadn’t been down to the shelter in a few weeks and when Celie told me of the above mentioned kitten-palooza (“Been caught kittening, once, at this Barnes Drive”) I figured I’d pop my head in and say Hi. It’s one of the many furry benefits of my current digs. She also said for me to check out the upstairs in the back if I did make my way down there, as if there weren’t enough downstairs, which I did and thus the reason for this post. For anyone that may be looking to add to the family there are countless deserving little ones here, older ones too, and no Sarah McLachlan or Phil Collins pulling at the heartstrings, which isn’t a slight by the way, not in the least. Those spots always get me and you I’m sure, as they should, and they do a tremendous service for our friends in fur, but I’ll go with something a bit more upbeat if I can, as I’ve referenced here (though dated) or maybe even a bit of classical for a change of pace.

But, again, if a kitten or kittens is or are on your radar then you need go no further. A hundred bucks will get all you need for the kitten start-up, shots, spays or neuters covered and the only real groundrule is that if you don’t already have a cat you take at least two. I’ve always felt that our friends need a friend besides us, a compatriot for the too long stretches when we’re not at home, thus the reason I’ve always had two (except when life does what it does and changes this rule – damn you life – and until, after a time and some hard heart shed tears, it can be reinstated) and Celie and the shelter feel the same. Yeh, I knew I liked this place.

I did check out the upstairs and if this post gets even just one of these little longings a spot then it will be words well spent.

PS: The little pretty one at the end, Savannah, is a shelter house cat. I first met her here, up top, at the house, in the sunroom as a matter of fact where the Gang of 4 are at the moment. She was in there with Cricket the Blind who I brought upstairs with me a while ago now. She’s deaf and has no use in her back end/legs but the shelter, with its smooth floors, provides a good spot for sliding herself along and doing what she does which is, well, just living and being an ambassador of such. It also gives her a good spot to be well cared for as that “no use” in her back end/legs does require some care. As I made my my way through the back to the upstairs she made her way over to me, I’d like to think maybe even recognizing me and I gave her a pet and a rub on the ear “Hello”. When I was done with my little video of the gang here there she was, much to my surprise. That’s a lot of stairs a “no use back end/legs” Savannah had to drag/slide herself up to catch back up with me. That perseverance, that need for a rub on the ear’s attention, that need for love, limitations or not, is what this is all about.

A Crow Knows

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 07-03-19)

So I just watched Celie, my landlady and good friend outside of my kitchen window that overlooks the back yard. She was patiently and lovingly dealing with a poor Crow that came her way, just within the last couple of days. He’d been injured and needed a spot. Thus this one. A good one.

In her gig of running a shelter, HVARS, this Momma Doolittle does life and the amount of it that I witness in need on a regular basis surely would be overwhelming to the best of us. But not her. The care of taking this injured Crow out into the sun for a little while and then convincing him, as he excitedly spoke Crow talk at her, to hop on her hand for a ride back into the house is beyond astounding and heartwarming.

Her selflessness is tiring and I see it, especially when I make my way downstairs in the mornings as she’s grabbing that first cup at the Keurig with heavy eyes. I’m also proud to pitch in when I can, to ease, even in a small way, that tired, to watch over the gang when needs be.

But the reason I post this is that we all should aspire to be as selfless, to kindly put an injured Crow at the top of our list or any other being, for that matter, that might be in need. At least if we can. To be just a little bit more selfless in general, a little more human.

A thought.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – “Baby General’s Golden Black Heart’s Band / Sky’s Orange When You’ve Got Blind Friends” – Song

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 06-30-19)

Baby General’s Golden Black Heart’s Band / Sky’s Orange When You’ve Got Blind Friends

It was two plus years ago today

That baby general came to have his say

In a propagandist fascist style

With his lies he’d go the extra mile

He’d hammer them unto the red

IQ’s regressing in his stead

Baby general’s golden black heart’s band


We’re baby general’s golden black heart’s band

We play you all ya need to know

Baby general’s golden black heart’s klan

The torches are only for show

Baby general’s cor-rupt

Baby general’s morally

Baby general’s bankrupt black heart’s band


There’s nothing to be seen here

Just back room in the know

There’s such important work be done

Now won’t you all just pray with us

We love it when you’re dumb


We don’t want you to be in the know

But we make you feel you’re in the show

Keep you happy swimming in the glow

Helps suck you in the undertow

Now let us to present to you

The sad and lonely Orange years

Baby general’s golden black heart’s band


Trump D’s victim’s tears…


What would you say if I sang you a lie

So obvious you can’t deny?

But you take it and then get to singin’ along

Cause re-ality it don’t apply


Oh, the sky’s purple when you’ve got blind friends

Mmm it’s any color when the truth gets bent

Mmm the sky’s orange is the new message sent


What would you say if I filled you with hate

Gave you an enemy you could detest

Locked them away less than human they’re caged

As you lend deaf ear to mankind’s rage


Oh, the sky’s black to go along with blue

Mmm your hu-manity now shares that hue

Mmm your sold souls invent a diff-er-ent view


Could you think you need saving?

That will surely come bust

Do you need to get praying?

But only to an orange need’s lust


Where will we be when sad histr’y holds true

(do you re-alize that there’s a cost?)

It’s measured in lives deemed be less than they be

(can you jus-tify the ones we toss?)


Oh you get by when smallish minds stay small

Mmm to think more’s an order way too tall

Ooohh there’s no longer a sure one for all


Do you feel the en-emy’s breath

(when it’s their last just at our door-step)

Does it feel sad em-powerin’

(to de-value them as he has pled)


Oh you get by when it’s a think of group

Mmm it’s much eas’r in an ignorance troupe

Mmm you ‘splain why but only in a vacuum

Yes you get by

Believin’ nationalist lies

You’re just a means to his end


A Next Day Must’s Fact Check On The Night Befores Lie-Fest

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 06-20-19)

Always my favorite thing following the latest “history, apparently, hasn’t taught us a fucking thing” jackboot sentiment propaganda lie fest is the next day’s fact checking article in the Washington Post and there are some doozies from last night to add to the over 10,000 lies already told in just 2 and half years. Which is actually kind of impressive in a sad, perverse kind of way.

There is the usual thrashing at the Meuller investigation being “illegal” somehow, or that it cleared him of obstruction (the unilateral judgement of a paid for loyalist AG isn’t much of a confidence inspiring clearing) when it was noted that charges only weren’t recommended due to DOJ guidelines or that it proved no collusion when it only didn’t find enough direct evidence, though it did find plenty of “wink wink” glad acceptance of the assistance or even the lies to the genesis the investigation. But these lies/misinformation are standard stuff by now, as was most of the speech, but it still included the usual drawer full of Trump magic math and made up #’s, the overly exaggerated or just plain wrong timelines, his never correct talking of anything involving trade and its #’s, the undue credit taking when he was, in a lot of cases, just riding an existing uptick or coattail etc, but my favorite has to be the one he continues to bellow about the GOP Tax Cut Scam, the one he always claims to be the largest package of cuts in history when, in fact, it is eighth.

There were a few blustered new ones you’ll find here but mostly it was an old magicianed hat night, filled with the usual rabid three legged rabbits.

Washington Post Fact Check Story

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – “Tricking The Whole” – Song

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 06-16-19)

In my last post here, song-wise, I mentioned tilting at windmills. That unflinching Quixote-esque need to wail at and fight against whatever it is that you feel needs be wailing at and fought against. Well, it continues …

Tricking The Whole


I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King

To keep their minds from wondering

What the truth knows

I’m filling the gaps marking all that I say

With prop-a-ganda being way

To sell truth now


And it’s really heady matter for elites I lie

For a fake press I lie

The haters cry

But see my dog base blinding there who loyally lap at my feet

Never finding truth crumbs on the floor


I’m painting bona fide in a red white and blue

My fingers make confusing swirls

Till you let go

Oooh Oooh Oooh Ahh Ahh

(succumb you will in time)

Hey Hey Hey….Hey


And hey batter batter batter

Swing and miss my man, can’t hit this pitch you can’t

Not this big spin

I’m on the mound base is the crowd

They pay no mind they are fact free

See how they’re wowed by my huge back door curve


I never take time to study the things that were important yesterday

They don’t matter now

Oooh Oooh Oooh Ahh Ahh

Hey Hey

I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King

It gets my mind to wandering ’bout new royals Ohhhh

Who we could own owwwwnnn


I’m tricking the whole to new reign of a King

My mind is always floundering

In a dark hole…in a dark whole

Pea, New Arrivals & A Misplaced Dude

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 06-16-19)

Now many of you are aware of my current living sitch (kidding…seriously, just kidding. If I ever actually use “sitch” instead of situation, like here, in the future, or any abbreviation of the kind, or use any acronyms for that matter I give you full permission to swat me about the head with something blunt or maybe soggy heavy or even poke me with a pointy stick).

So, beginning again, many of you are aware of my current living situation but for those who aren’t I have a wonderful two bedroom place above a three car garage in the house of a landlady (Celie) who owns/runs an animal shelter and sanctuary. For all of the complaints I may have about living paycheck to paycheck and the difficulties that presents, of just being able to get by, where I, and my Bella and the Unintentionals lay our heads is not one of them. It’s a best of spots. The Unintentionals by the way (not btw) are Mimi the Quirky, Cricket the Blind and a new big guy named Duke who I’ve come to simply call Dude, ’cause, well, he seems like one, and who came to be here from a sad situation that I won’t go into (we’ll keep him well Hope, I promise you). Suffice to say he’s here at the moment and just needs to get along with my Bella and said Unintentionals, the Band if you will. He has some windows with plenty to see, a sort of cat TV, drama’d with the stories of cows and horses and chickens and roosters and cats and dogs, is fed well and has a cat guy who gives him kisses on the forehead. For a new misplaced dude? I hope that is, at least, some of what he could have wished for.

One of the things that has fascinated me from day one, Celie and I were talking of this this morning as a matter of fact, is how all the fur here get along, and there is a lot of fur. There are seven dogs, Pea, Polly, Chrissy, Eve & Senta (the big, really big, I mean wolf size big, German Shepherd sisters who thankfully have never thought of eating me) little Spanky (who has also never thought of eating me though I’m sure I could fend off the ankle advances) and a new bouncy, belly rubs welcome small one who I’ve named Georgia. Initially I came to call her “Gorgeous”. There is a cat here named Handsome so why not a dog named Gorgeous I thought? Then Gorgeous morphed into Gorgeous George (as for some reason I remembered an old wrestler) and then Georgia. The naming thing can be a process.

There are also numerous cats starting with Bruce, who is the man, and on down. Honey Bob Tail “Boo”, Cujo (who earns his name on occasion), Dolly, Sharky, Penny, Buck, Florida, Millie, Lola, Handsome, Trucker, Little Mama…and that’s only in the house. There’s also Dutch, Spud, Curly, Lumpy, Ghost and the B&W twins who come and go through a cat/dog door in the garage and lest we not foget the couple of nameless ones who have comfy spots on the front porch. I think I got everyone, apologies gang, to any of you I may have missed. And there’s new kittens, baby raccoons, baby skunks and even baby groundhogs all underneath my ass in the garage, the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, the sun room, the little barn and the big barn etcetera etcetera etcetera. It’s a wonder of all spots here, all filled with fur and life, life just looking for care and it is a LOT of care. Cheers to you Celie, Momma Doolittle, for that, for them. As my Dad would have said “You’re a better man (Woman) than I am Gunga Din”. Miss you Dad.

Anyway, as to the getting along and what this long winded post is leading up to? Just a couple of perfect pictures (not pics) that exemplify this coexistence. A (daddy) Pea and a couple of the latest arrivals…plus my new misplaced friend.

Here’s to still breathing and still being able to note our lives.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – “A Stay In The Strife” – Song

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 06-02-19)

Windmills and time well spent tilting.

A Stay In The Strife


I read the news today, oh boy

Trump’s crooked law set to investigate

Distraction’s cries of being spied

Future des-pot just has to laugh

Conclusion’s writ it’s not a draft


William Low Barr is his new star

Re-cusal not this time full owned AG

Case outcome’s all-ready been made

For roses garden stage

A victim propaganda play to usher base a brand new day


I read a story just to-day

About religious right their prayers have scored

To force the mass to live their way

Back-wards by the good book

Blindness the new look

They love to dummmmmb yooooou downnnnnnn


(It’s rock paper scissors, what do you choose sir?

Rock of course

But paper covers you

Then I’ll be paper

But scissors cuts you

Well I’ll be scissors then

But rock breaks you

Well how can I win?

You can’t really…it’s a check check check

Well that’s not fair…to me…there has to be a win

There are wins, but only temporary sir

Well can I be all three checks?

That’s not how it works sir

Don’t tell me about how things work)


Woke up, feeling of dread

Dragged democracy across my head

Found a few old tales in parchment notes

And looking up the founder’s they did spoke

Found they liked a scene of checks

Keep Kings out of our new stead

But treason’s elephant it’s got a brand new game

Dem-ocracy?…it’s merely now mundane



(You see, it’s all about changing the rules son

But changing them isn’t fair sir

There is no fair

But you just said, to you, the game wasn’t fair

It wasn’t to me then, but I discovered it was rigged and I couldn’t win

It wasn’t rigged sir

Whatever, this is a new fair…my fair

Okay sir but….?

No buts…and everyone I talk to agrees)


So there’s the news today, oh boy

Fake called it is the tried true orange ploy

To gather base who pay no mind

To what real truth may find

It’s daily King con-firmed they’ll buy always the any of his lies

Trump loves to dummmmmb yooooou downnnnnnn


(I’m sorry sir, it’s been decided, you can’t change the rules

Really? Who said that?

Rock, paper or scissors?

Ok, I’ll play along…again…rock

Sorry, but parchment wins

Good luck with that son. It’s just tired old words on paper written by a bunch of tired old men.

Can I borrow those scissors…and a sharpee?)

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – “Till I Check It Myself” – Song Updated

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 05-25-19)

So a little less than a year or so ago I decided to have a bit of fun and do some writing and some singing (though I’ll put “singing” in quotes here just to be safe). It was at the time that Trump had nominated angry, partisan and unsuited, other than a back room oath of fealty handshake, Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court right after having bought off his mentor Justice Kennedy to retire. The Georgia Satellites and this tune just struck me right then as a good way to vent my frustrations as to someone as dangerous as the ignorant Orange being in such a position.

If you’re here then you know that I’ve built a few more tunes since then. You’ll also know that they all sound a hell of a lot better than that first attempt though “better” is up for interpretation.

Now, I’m really not one to get uptight about such things, or maybe I am as could be evidenced here, but that first tune has been gnawing at me to update it. So that’s what I’ve done, obsolete Windows Movie Maker in tow (Wow, I’m still not good at it…bear with the old dude).

It’s just a me not being uptight about it kinda thing.

Till I Check It Myself


Got a SCOTUS in my pocket going ching-a-ling-ka-ching

Wanna crawl up in his fine robes babee, give him some bling

And every time I do I ask the same old thing

I want your loyaltee, you judgees and you’ll get to kiss my ring

My SCOTUS, my own law, don’t just judge by yourself

I said, “don’t pass no judgement, till I check it myself”


Oh, Judgee Judgee Judgee you know to see it my way

You know that I’m your POTUS baby, you have to see it that way

Now I’ll tell you a story ’bout fake news and the now

I’ll say no truthee, no storee comes out without me any how

My SCOTUS, my own law, don’t just judge by yourself

I said, “don’t pass no judgement, till I check it myself”


You see I wanted law bad, and I was throwing it to Heck

Then they talked of Constitution, started looking for checks

I said Country it’s my law for the rest of your life

Press said no babee, BUT we’ll stay maybee if we story the strife

My SCOTUS, my own law, don’t just judge by yourself

I said, “don’t pass no judgement, till I check it myself” …

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – “Orange Quarantine” – Song

(Original post date from Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot: 05-11-19)


Another little one. Who doesn’t like a good sing-along huh?

Orange Quarantine

In the land that we call home

Lives a man who was born to be

A simple con, liar and cheat

Living in an orange quarantine

But in this land he would conceive

A man-boy King of him he would be crowned

And to the law he’d not be bound

In his new found Orange Quarantine



We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Trading truth for beans, an Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

The lies come with a sheen in an Orange Quarantine


Blind loyal friends all love the ride

Cheer-fully they chide Democ-racy

A prop-a-gandist band does play


We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Where truth is rarely seen in this Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Trump’s pockets full of green, in an Orange Quarantine


(Full speed backward, full speed back stupid USA

Blindly so it is general

Look the other way for me… drop the law if you please

Will do general. General?)


As we live a life unease

All the rich of us (all the rich of us)

Has what they need (has what they need)

To the rest (to the rest)

Shoulder your part (shoulder your part)

In this Trickle Down (in this trickle down)

Quarantine (quarantine…HA HA!)


We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Where ignorance is King in this Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Of woe we’ll surely sing in an Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Bizarro is the norm in this Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Where scary does take form in an Orange Quarantine