D.I.Y. Time Suspend With Friends

Just got off another Zoom call with some of my dearest of friends from my Waynesburg College days, friends who I consider lifelong, even though they aren’t technically “life long”, as I have a few others from years before them when High Schooling, wanting to hold hands with the right girl but being embarrassed at such, playing baseball and then stickball when those baseball dreams became just dreams, Monty Pythoning or D & D’ing in a nice finished basement room. Thank you Mrs Carlin.

But these three hit at my core, Lori the smart and pretty, Tom the stoic, Mark the informed though not that any of these qualities are exclusive by the way, they share them all, other than Tom and Mark being pretty of course. Sorry guys. Something about lipstick and pigs.
We talked.

And talked … and talked some more for almost 3 hours and not of old school remembrances, stories rehashed too many times though those have their moments.

No, we talked current as that is all there is. Our fears of the direction things are heading. Remembering is nice but that just throws you back to a time you can’t return to, however much you may wish you could. It’s a melancholy I just don’t need.

No, you have to be current and aware.

Now there aren’t any positives to be taken from a Pandemic obviously, no matter how much we try. Maybe some folks have found a way to be more human, to help out, to give the other guy a hand but it shouldn’t take a pandemic to do that. If that’s not in your nature to do so, well, I can’t help ya. Maybe a pandemic woke you up and if that’s the case good for you. I’m all for trying to find silver linings but we still live in fear.

Lori has issues of concern and I have some as well. There’s no cavalier here, no nonchalance. We wear masks and we muddle.

But 3 hours with old friends can suspend time.

One silver lining? We never would have considered this if not.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – “American Sigh” – Song

Short minutes can be the longest of things if they’re not good minutes, they can be interminable. Long minutes can fly if they ARE good minutes. I’d like to think that these 8 minutes are the latter. But that’s not for me to decide … though I do hope you agree.

Anyway, here’s an attempt at American Pie.

 

American Sigh

A long red time ago

Repubs may not remember

When they had some semblance of a soul

But now it seems they’ll gladly send               

That semblance out into the wind

To lapdog satisfy their orange sin

 

It’s shameless propaganda now

Reminding time of where we how

Vowed it’s return to not allow

After we thought we’d learned just how

 

It’s dark and lie filled but with a glint

A knowing smirk aware lie’s tint

Care not for truth knowing you’ll not blink

The day Democracy dies

 

So, bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

The goal now is hold us back

To use any underhanded tack

Destroy the mail or employ law’s hack

Or maybe send guns to man the polls

Claim integrity protec-ting the rolls

Even declare a win in possible defea-ea-eat

 

Now if you believe in great leader’s lies

If you think there are no foreign ties

You surely believe too

That he cares for a me and a you

That he’s not trying to suppress the vote

That he’s only trying uphold his oath

But it’s a one he just made to self

While seein’ democracy die

 

And I’m singin’ bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

For four dumbing years he’s been tryin’ to sow

A discontent help divide to grow

And doesn’t care what is the toll

He leans on loyalists while skirtin’ the rules

Knowing in the Senate he has the tools

That will submit with joy that they’re all just foo-ools

 

He’ll even pretend messianic grace

Holds a thing with words smoke in our face

A Low Barr surely grinned

At his words peace it then was burned

And while lies come at a furious clip

Our intelligence it continues to dip

And we sing laments to truth in the dark

As we watch Democracy die

 

I keep on singing bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

Now death still comes at a steady pace

Since Trump declared straight to our face

This was nothing and would go away

But the problem here is this interfered

Self interest ruled and he was a’feared

Of keeping place so what of people’s tea-earrs?

 

So discrediting it soon began

The truth of science sent on the lam

It was all just a Fauci scam

Despot playbook played and ran

 

So great leader thought to change the rules

To take away some important tools

To fudge numbers or to just disclude

While watching Democracy die

 

We all are singing bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

Ooohhh and now we stand on the edge of fate

While dealing with an unbounded hate

Of any truth that doesn’t rate

The trump dumb down it takes it’s toll

My own head a mess atop the atoll

This orange devil just might be our death kno-oll

 

We’ve heard him now in his tweeted rage

Or instead a whine meant set the stage

For an outcome of the age

That might not fit his gauge

 

He’ll burn this all down now if he can

Not caring of just what that might bring

To anyone who doesn’t sing

The day Democracy dies

 

We need be singin’ bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

I met a truth who sang the blues

Seemed there wasn’t any happy news

It packed it’s bags and then turned it’s back

I watch now as truth walks away

A slow trudge feet stuck in swamp’s clay

A stuck that is now so hard to esca-a-ape

 

And in the streets pro-tests still reel

Injustice tryin’ to make us feel

But Orange won’t allow that

Paints as anar-chy’s bat

 

And the three men Trump admires most

Himself, himself and he as host

Conduct a train called Realities Ghost

And ride while democracy dies

 

Bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

Unless we get out reclaim that high

 

And I am singin’ bye, bye blue Democracy sky

Pledged on parchment with a dream when the future was nigh

Pursuit of happiness the framers all had that eye

But that stands to now to maybe just die

 

I Would Have Been A Shitty Cowboy

So, I just tried to do a little cow wrangling.

(Later)

So, I just proved to be not very good at trying to do a little cow wrangling.

One of the joys of living where I do for the last, almost 3 years now, is that there aren’t a lot of uninteresting days, or should I say, there aren’t a lot of days where something isn’t happening, where numerous dogs aren’t dogging or even more numerous cats aren’t catting, where horses aren’t horsing or a host of baby furry things aren’t baby furry thinginging, where a single attention seeking bird isn’t birding loudly or cows aren’t cowing or where, speaking of the latter, something unexpected doesn’t pop up like, say, looking out my window here at my PC chair and seeing one of the cows leisurely munching away at new found front yard grass. Innocent it seems right? If I were a cow new found front yard grass would be a bonus, right in my cow wheelhouse. But the reason this is unexpected is that said cow SHOULDN’T be in the front yard leisurely munching on his new found grass as that means he’s NOT cowing with his pals behind the confines of the fence. But the gate was closed with his four pals all properly cowing as they should. And this is the second time this week that the normal cowing wasn’t in the script for this particular one. He’s a regular Cow-dini just minus the chains and straightjacket.

Now look, I can see small things slipping past whatever their confines may be, a puppy through a just wide enough fence (hello Georgia as a wee one), a kitten from a temporary cage maybe or any other baby furry from the same that gives them just enough space to liquid body transform squeeze or inventive little raccoons who really are bandits that know how to escape anything. But this is a cow. A  COW. Small? Not quite a cow’s gig.

It’s not like it’s suddenly going into cartoon mode, thinning itself and stepping stretched out cartoony elongated cow legs, one at a time, gingerly trying not to touch the barbed wire while it takes these steps like in some sort of cow game of Operation to freedom.  

It’s a real life cow.

So I tried. Threw on my at the kitchen door emergency when emergencies arise ratty old now slip on sneaks and headed out, shirtless in my haste (I don’t use AC so I’m usually shirtless at this time of year). Thankfully it was just me that was home, no one needs to see this glaringly bright white Casper shirtless ass in droopy shorts believe me, and grabbed a bag of anything that will make a food shaky shake rattling of the bag sound (cat food in this case) in hopes that that would attract the errant one.

He raised a single ear … for like a second, then a “whatever”. His four pals? “Oh shit, dude’s got a food shaky shake rattling bag sound goin’ on here” as they all converged. If any one of these four had been the wanderer I would have been golden. But, of course, not my tan friend.

I’m kind of glad that no one was around though, especially Matt, Celie’s son, as, if he had been home and seen me out his bedroom window making these wrangling attempts, he would have surely found viral video gold, with a speed up and added Benny Hill music edit at my frustrated back and forth’s with the big fella. Well, old guy would have to explain to him the whole Benny Hill music bit of course but still. The only thing missing from this would have been a slapstick element of me slipping exaggeratedly, feet flying up in the air, in a big dropping of cow poop.

The best part is? All of this was kind of in a comedic pastoral slow motion, a slow urgency if you will. Cows can be quick when they want to be sure, as was the case here in spurts, but for the most part it’s a meandering, a head down quiet munch and me just being a bother. Trying to convince Mr Errant of returning to the cows cowing fold by opening the gate, but not being able to actually open the gate as I would have liked to lure him in without the four following out that could have turned this into a completely different comedy of errors made it difficult. Came close though, just a couple of feet at one point before he ran off … again.

And, I’m not a Celie. I’m not Cow Mom. She’d get this down in a second.

Phone call made to her then for the aware and to hear that surely the Tan would just continue in this meandering search of new found grass into the evening for when she comes home. Not to worry.

I would have been a shitty cowboy. Plus the hat, though cool through all the year’s time spent watching it star in movie’s and however many gallons would be needed to accommodate my big ass noggin, just isn’t quite my style. I couldn’t pull it off with the easy cool panache of a say, Jimmy Stewart. No, just give me a ballcap. A ballcap with a prominent gold “P” of course.

Saturday

Ok, an in look you didn’t ask for but I’m providing anyway. Feel free to check out now, I’ll understand.

What is a Frankenberry evening/weekend after leaving the gig on a Friday?

It’s a peer up “Hello Memes!”, at Mimi the Quirky, usually at the top of the stairs with an old lady smoker’s sounding meow, a one that rasps the impatience she’s been feeling since hearing me come home, a come home not quite quick enough to the downstairs door and walk up the stairs as she would like though and she reminds with this rasp.  A Cricket, walking blind circles in front of the fridge, head Stevie Wonder rollin’, maybe even a hearing challenged circles these days as well, but somehow always knowing that I’m home and waiting alongside Mimi. A sudden scared jerk at a hand to her head “hey girlfriend” and then a 180 to a comfort flop and a belly rub. And a Bella, patiently waiting on her square of flattened crunchy paper just inside the apartment knowing an under chin rub is coming, maybe even a sideface scratch or an ear rub of a Pirates cap brim if I can bend down enough. Gettin’ old ya know. This bend down shit is getting tougher now.

After a clean up, usually of Cricket’s Cricketness, a hardwood sweep of back kicked litter, a dump of water from the two water bowls sitting in pools around them on the rubber mat underneath now (Cricket treats water bowls as kiddie pools, splashing most of the water out before taking a couple of moments to lick off her paws, her way of drinking, sometimes with both front paws in what’s left of the water), a clean of the food bowls from the morning and it’s dinner time.

Then, it’s Steve dinner, something reheated, something convectioned unfrozen with garlic, onion and lemon pepper spices and a hot sauce, or something foiled unwrapped, the other half of a sandwich from lunch maybe as it’s always important to try and get two meals out of whatever it is that you’ve bought and planned to eat. Gotta justify the cost.

When I finally get myself set, and indulge bad habit empowered shared bits of my dinner with Cricket and the Memes, I look for anything I can find on the cable for my brief before a few words at the PC. If I’m home early enough I can catch the second half of a “Blue Bloods” repeat on WGN, depending on the day followed by repeats of Tim Allen’s “Last Man Standing” (which I’ve found myself enjoying the shit out of lately) also depending on the day. On days where their sitcom repeats are things like “Married With Children” (the dumbest show ever) or “How I Met Your Mother” (never cared) I look to maybe instead jump into the middle of movies I’ve already seen in these channels between 50 and 60 or SyFy or BBC America. I just need a momentary distraction for the eats and Cricket doesn’t seem to mind my choices as long as that paper towel at her feet gives her the know at extra dinner.  It’s her accustomed feel. The paper step. Step step folded paper sniff sniff pieces eat eat

Does all of this sound pathetic? Sure. Do I care? Not in the least.

Tonight, my grab at something to just mindlessly watch while dinnering was halfway through “Pitch Perfect 2” (Got’s to love the Anna Kendrick, the cutest most wonderful thing, a wishing I was back in school and she was what caught my eye without her thinking I was weird). Cricket had some bits of the turkey meal I had grabbed at Price Chopper from their prepared stuff, I mean how can you can go wrong for 6 bucks, especially when you split it ‘em in two like I said, even if you could have easily eaten the whole plate in one sit? I thought to myself, with it being a Friday so I had time now, “Man, wouldn’t that be cool if there were a Pitch Perfect 3 following ?” And then there was. The silliest dumb-ass movie ever but with some wonderful tune scenes and some really new found likables. Should I be concerned that I know the story arc? He he. Maybe.

There a lot of things I’m not good at, a lot of things I really need to work on, a lot of things that just scream “Dude!!” get your shit together. But I know that the Anna Kendrick’s, bad movies, awful John Lithgow accents, the rememberings find me in a place where I kick back on a Friday night and not really thinking of that, a place where I find myself in a window of tomorrow is good as I get one more. So I’m Ok. Sunday will piss me off eventually, the knowing of a Monday closer now, but this is a Saturday that I so always hope will last and I know I can write a few words about days.

As a single not caring cat dude, other than my charges, I glory in the time spent without you, stringing words, unabashedly admitting to sometimes watching Lifetime things or Hallmark things or finding that flick, like now, between channels 50 and 60, even if it may be considered a chick flick out of the corner of my eye (I find it Ok to watch now from my computer chair, Shoes’s computer chair, to multi-task in a way, which I never could before, had to be a proper watching in the past, but a roll back now with remote in hand for the volume or not, movies that are so predictable that you can recite the dialogue before it happens, but that you find a comfort in, that tug a little bit, that maybe even bring an actual tear while I keyboard scribble amid this rolling back and forth. Here’s to hardwood floors and a roll.

From fat Amy “You crush it so hard that your nips tingle a bit”

Well, my “nips” may not be tingling, not at the moment anyway, surely for a completely different day and circumstance, but that is a Mantra huh?

Words are crushed, even simple ones here that don’t mean that much, other than to a you.

The Frankenberry Synchronized Cat Laying Team

Cricket the Blind (top) and Mimi the Quirky, celebrated members of the Frankenberry synchronized, looking like dead on the hardwood, cat laying team, participate in some training.

Mimi & Cricket synchronized laying

“Medal worthy stuff you two!!! Great practice!! Now go groom up ladies!! Towels on window seats. Feline Olympics … we’re ready!!”

(Cricket also qualified in litter kicking and Mimi in shed enough to build another cat)

Bella? She qualified in boxing, and spars with the brims of my Pirates caps as I sit next to her in her window seat. She fights under the moniker “Lefty McBell”.

Splashdown

Though it won’t, sadly not in my lifetime, come to pass space exploration just got a bit larger. A friend of mine reminded me of this earlier, and an actual friend by the way, one I can confirm, he even has a name, Rich, noted how he remembered, seared into his memory the moon launch back in ’69. Me? I don’t but I’ve done my best over the years to catch up to the hope and to the dreams. Of all we’ve had to endure in the last five months or so, of all the death, of all the negligence, all the nonchalance, all of the hoping things would just go away, of all the self interest that is always at the top of priorities it seems there actually was a splashdown. A freakin’ splashdown! Man how primitive will that sound to a future exploring this past? But a successful splashdown return. The first time in 45 years. An almost me of years. Moving forward? A yay us. Just wish I could be there for the next steps.

Pillow

Because just nonsense

An ode to a Pillow

Pillow

Ya know it sounds kinda silly but I could no longer dilly as I had to toss my old

pillow today no more dally. Reluctance sure, so many dreams born but surely a bore to

those who wouldn’t know, and even some quite naughty. Colors that didn’t exist before

my head’s stead on your comfy bed but you looked quite underpass spotty. I apologize,

but I have found another (s), though quickly claimed by cats needing to appear tamed

as that is part of their game at pillow, amongst other things, dominance.

Pillow

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – “Dashed Hopes” – Song

That’s it. Just another tune and lyrics, nothing more.

(to the tune of Sinatra’s “High Hopes”)

 

Dashed Hopes

Next time you’re downed

With your neck on the ground

Under Trump secret hounds

Hope you’ll be found

 

Just what makes that orange old rat

Think he controls like with a mob bat

Pretending to be a strong man

Like his tyrannical pals

 

Yes, we’ve got dashed hopes

We’ve got dashed hopes

We’ve got Trump in the ear wishin’ we’re deaf hopes

 

But any time you cannot breathe

When your eyes they bleed

Just remember that rat

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another tear gas ball

Ooops there goes another pro-jec-tile

Ooops there goes another despotic rant

 

When trouble calls

And self interest rules all

Re-election a must

Make show of balls

 

Now there is a William Low Barr

His lies to the public taken so far

Now he just has to double down

To protect his said rat

 

Cause he’s a dasher of law

He’s a masher of truth

He’s a disingenuine hack a liar’s real Babe Ruth

 

So anytime you hear Barr speak

Know the truth’s been tweaked

It actually just don’t exist

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another Low Barr lie

Ooops there goes another Low Barr try

Anoint Trump King and see democracy die

 

(break)

 

Big problems don’t seem to be enough

To try and make death stop

When power’s priority’s top

 

Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another blame to throw

Ooops there goes more ignorance in the flow

Ooops there goes some even more childish woe

 

Ya think?