Breakfast Gone To The Dogs

There’s a certain almost … almost poetry in all that we do. You just have to find it.

Pea bounces a glared excited tooth happy growl, and I bounce along, feets, paws and hands up in the air like we just do care. Louie barks, incessant, loud, annoyingly now out the back door be gone with you my friend until, Chrissy spins, dances, dances in circles in a circus of dog, her head a ballerina’s held spot as her body swivels, Georgia gets impatiently, prettily underfoot, the prettiest of dog have ever I’ve seen, while also bouncing a following, Polly anticipates Polly and, Eve & Senta, wolf-size the envy, search empty garage cat food plastic flats from the night before waiting. Those cats leave nothing.

Me? I just marvel at their simple breakfast.

C’mon Spanky, little one, an “eye!” or not, my pirate, look down, focus, you too. Let’s eat.


“Trump D’s Golden Scepter” – song

Trump Brand 1 scepter

A most bestest of friend of mine (yeah, I said most bestest … what of it?) who I sent a rough draft of this, texted me to complain of an ear worm. Apologies I said, but, selfishly, I’m all good with complaints of an ear worm. I’ll take that as a compliment to some of my endeavor’s annoying stick-in-the-headedness.

Though I recently posted my collection of Beatles/Trump tunes from the last year or so, The Orange Album, it seems that wasn’t a final Beatles piece. I’m thinkin’ I’d pair this version of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer with my version of Yellow Submarine, “Orange Quarantine” for an A and B side single if I could do such a thing. A good ol’ double sing-a-long. Tap a toe if you’d like.

Cheers as always gang,

Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Don wasn’t quizzical

It seemed to him illogical

To find truth that leaves no doubt

Don’t allow intelligence in this


He hid his shortcomings

In wordy salad long goings

He makes no sense at all

But staff always picks up the messy dropped word


But just then that damn press it drops by

To point out all his lies

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Came down upon their heads

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Would threaten them be dead

Back at podium

He sings his tried true stratagem

Of playing victim’s card

Dem’s they are just mean

As you all have


He tells ‘merica

Believe Mob King Republica

Vindicated now

And those who don’t agree will pay dearly

And how-ow-ow-ow

The swamp’s tides getting much stronger now

So he paddles up with no mind

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Comes down upon our heads

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Dissension will be dead

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Would turn us all to red

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Loyalty it must be bred

His senate they are all in line

Claiming everything is fine

Dem’s are those to blame

Future now an easier despot


Lindsey and lackey crows

Talk around with Fox News shows

Espousing all the lies

While Mitch hopes to continue with Russian


And the GOP laughs right in our face

As the Trump tries to force blind

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Held high above our heads

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Propaganda’s never dead

whoa whoa whoa whoa!

(doo doo doo doo)

Golden Scepter

ding ding

(doo doo doo doo)

Sleep Tight Little Stink Bug … Please

The definition of a wary sleep?

Having your tower buzzed by 4 different stink bugs while watching Netflix on your Tab in the dark, the lone light being the TV on mute, but only securing 3 of them in your catch and release (window) empty cat food can before you’re ready to hit the rack even though you’re still very aware of rogue stinkbug #4 in the distance, who you’ve now come to call “Red” Baron Von Stinky Buzz, sounding like some sort of vintage prop plane at a barnstorming air show.

The definition of a wary sleep indeed, especially if you do so with your mouth open.

red baron clip art w stink bug

Taking A Moment With The Rain King

You know there’s something to be said about taking a moment, even at 3 in the morning on a Saturday night (Sunday early), so much in your head, sleep not coming, and being just in the middle of that “I got time” (Sunday) to “Dammit, I gotta get back at it” (eventual Monday) but enough to kick a foot or two back, for just that moment, headphones on, and Counting Crows “Rain King” filling your noggin. Bits and pieces plus the chorus of this freaking tune have been rattlin’ round my brain for 25 plus years now, might as well give it a listen in full anew huh? … even if it still makes me cry, all these years later. Not the song, but a so fondly remembered time.

Old girl Mimi the Quirky lays to your right at your PC desk, her favorite spot while you scribble at a keyboard, her quirk finally done while she does some no longer quirky simple sleepy purring, Cricket the Blind enjoys the foldover plush scent of a fresh change of sheets that you’re dearly anticipating behind you and “little” Bella clutches and lays on a favorite pillow on her couch in the living room after a long day at the Vet to check her Steve’s worry. She doesn’t like you right now. But you are still the Rain King, good or bad.

Then quiet.

There’s something to be said about taking a moment.


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

This is one I didn’t post on its own as opposed to all the others, I just added it to the The Orange Album  when I put that together recently. It’s probably because I don’t know if I like it or not. Lyrically sure, I try to be as point as I can, vocally? Eh … and I was a bit lazy in not adding any audio clips.

P.S. Have a version of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer on the way. I know … exciting huh?

Bitter Orange Pill

(posted 12-27-19)

They hope and they pray

Repub’s on a hill

Their pockets won’t be exposed while for the Orange they shill

They know how he smugly owns them

Corruption his favorite tool

He gloats with the dumbest bluster


But the bitter orange pill

Is so hard going down

While the words out his head

See the world burning down


He get’s have his say

Trump truth now the way

The man of the lies by thousands de-clares them to be prayed

And nobody stands up to him

They are all just way too afraid

But they lap at his golden excess


And the bitter orange pill

Tastes like King going down

And support they exclaim

Has a hollow desp’rate sound


And they cultishly blind protect him

As they do what they have to do

To proving this tin-pot’s new world


But the bitter orange pill

Is a cancer going down

With no cure to be found

‘cept Dante circles goin’ round

ooooohhhhh ooooohhhhh ooooohhhhh ooooohhhhh ooooohhhhh 

Dante’s circle round and round and round and round


He blusters aloud his comfort

This menagerie of fools

Lending him delusions


But the bitter orange pill

It’s so hard going down

And the words out his head

Democracy’s it’s burning down

ooooohhhhh ooooohhhhh ooooohhhhh ooooohhhhh ooooohhhhh 

dante circles round and round and round.…



I sometimes, on Friday’s, will run to Hometown Deli just down the street from the radio station here to grab lunch, a maybe treat to myself this one day a week if I can. There’s no regular menu of the hot food at this place so there is always an anticipation of a possible welcome surprise (please be Chicken Francaise today … please be Chicken Francaise today). Plus, they know me and smile and say “Hi” and the cute girl in the glasses ringing me up has the coolest set of little tattoos behind her left ear. Can’t go wrong with that.

It’s expensive though. If I told you how much I make you’d give me 5 bucks a hug and start a Go Fund Me page, so it just can’t be a regular thing, however much I may wish it could. And even when I do go I can only justify it knowing that whatever I pick up is my whole weekend, dividing too many dollars by the number of meals I can get out of it to bring it down to something more mentally manageable.

Yes. I am sadly, though, gloriously pathetic, and I mean that. Gloriously. It’s also important to grab something that is OK cold for when I’m just too fucking lazy to put that something in the microwave. “Jesus, I can’t wait two minutes!’ Two whole freakin’ minutes?! And maybe one more after I stir it!? Shit!”

Last week they had a Philly Cheese on pasta that was perfect, and it easily passed the can ya eat it cold test. This week? Not so much. It was pork n potatoes with sauerkraut which you don’t wanna eat cold, believe me (and this is what this whole post is leading up to).

Sauerkraut should never, and I repeat NEVER, be used to accompany any food other than a hot dog under spicy mustard on a bun along with a beer in the cheap seats at a ballpark. NEVER.

And, as to ballparks, pitchers and catchers are almost here!! The surest sign of winter’s demise and where hope springs … for like 5 minutes as a Buccos fan. It’s a good 5 minutes though and I dearly await that dog and sauerkraut underneath that spicy mustard in the sun, preferably one with horseradish. The ONLY pairing of sauerkraut.

Oh, and an obligatory cat pic of course. What’s a Frankenberry post without at least one. A big bucket O’ Cats. Dutch and his pals.

Bin O Cats - Dutch and the gang

Cheers all,